Below us the Thames grew lighter, and all around below were the shadows - the dark shadows of buildings and bridges that formed the base of this dreadful masterpiece.

Someday when peace has returned to this odd world I want to come to London again and stand on a certain balcony on a moonlit night and look down upon the peaceful silver curve of the Thames with its dark bridges.

Some day I'd like to cover a war in a country as ugly as war itself.

But to the fighting soldier that phase of the war is behind. It was left behind after his first battle. His blood is up. He is fighting for his life, and killing now for him is as much a profession as writing is for me.

One of the parodoxes of war is that those in the rear want to get up into the fight, while those in the lines want to get out.

If you go long enough without a bath, even the fleas will let you alone.

It was a night when London was ringed and stabbed with fire.