The stream of time sweeps away errors, and leaves the truth for the inheritance of humanity.

Just about this time, when in imagination I was so great a warrior, I had good use in real life for more strength, as I was no longer taken to school by the nurse, but instead had myself to protect my brother, two years my junior.

The appalling thing about war is that it kills all love of truth.

Six hours a day I lived under school discipline in active intercourse with people none of whom were known to those at home, and the other hours of the twenty-four I spent at home, or with relatives of the people at home, none of whom were known to anybody at school.

The war imbued my tin soldiers with quite a new interest. It was impossible to have boxes enough of them.

I was always hearing that I was pale and thin and small.

A love for humanity came over me, and watered and fertilised the fields of my inner world which had been lying fallow, and this love of humanity vented itself in a vast compassion.