The closest fires were near enough for us to hear the crackling flames and the yells of firemen. Little fires grew into big ones even as we watched. Big ones died down under the firemen's valor only to break out again later.

If I can just see the European war out I think I might feel justified in quitting the war.

For a lifetime I had bathed with becoming regularity, and thought the world would come to an end unless I changed my socks every day. But in Africa I sometimes went without a bath for two months, and I went two weeks at a time without even changing my socks. Oddly enough, it didn't seem to make much difference.

I've really been sick with this cold, but I think I might have kept the columns going anyhow except I was just so low in spirit, I didn't have the will to struggle against them when my deadline was so close and I felt so lousy.

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

Thoughts are wonderful things, that they can bring two people, so far apart, into harmony and understanding for even a little while.

I've been immersed in it too long. My spirit is wobbly and my mind is confused. The hurt has become too great.