To cease to love -- that is defeat.

The only man who knows just what he thinks at the present moment is the man who hasn't done any new thinking in the past ten years.

But mayn't desertion be a brave thing? A fine thing? To desert a thing we've gone beyond - to have the courage to desert it and walk right off from the dead thing to the live thing - ?

We all go through the same things - it's all just a different kind of the same thing.

What we seek we do not find - that would be too trim and tidy for so reckless and opulent a thing as life. It is something else we find.

Defeat furnishes good material to the poets and the artists, but none of us care to have the glory of the conquered apply to us.

That's the worst of a war--you have to go on hearing about it so long.