I was at the front for thirteen months, and by the end of that time the sharpest perceptions had become dulled, the greatest words mean.

At that moment of realization I knew that I had been blind because I had wished not to see; it was only then that I realised, at last, that all these dead men, French and Germans, were brothers, and I was the brother of them all.

How happy I am to go to the front at last. To do my bit. To prove with my life what I think I feel.

Slogans which deafened us so that we could not hear the truth.

In a quiet Franciscan monastery kind and silent monks looked after me. After many weeks I was discharged. Unfit for further service.

Most people have no imagination. If they could imagine the sufferings of others, they would not make them suffer so. What separated a German mother from a French mother?

The revolution is like a vessel filled with the pulsating heartbeat of millions of working people.