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.

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 - ?

It is through suppression that hells are formed in us.

They made small effort to cover their raw souls with the mantle of commonplace words.

Seems nothing draws men together like killing other men.

I can't think of any sorrow in the world that a hot bath wouldn't help, just a little bit.

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