Sarcasm is the protest of the weak.

We are all born equally far from the sun.

It seemed clear that wars were not made by generations and their special stupidities, but that wars were made instead by something ignorant in the human heart

I knew that part of friendship consisted in accepting a friend’s shortcomings, which sometimes included his parents.

Sarcasm... the protest of those who are weak.

Stranded in this mill town railroad yard while the whole world was converging elsewhere, we seemed to be nothing but children playing among heroic men.

Your war memories will be with you forever, you'll be asked about them thousands of times after the war is over. People will get their respect for you from that-partly from that, don't get me wrong-but if you can say that you were up front where there was some real shooting going on, then that will mean a whole lot to you in years to come.