Seems nothing draws men together like killing other men.

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.

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

Some days are happy days - of themselves, as if for their own sakes. They seem to be enjoying themselves, regardless of what use may be made of them.

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

Seems nothing draws men together like killing other men.

Even though you've given up a past it hasn't given you up. It comes uninvited - and sometimes half welcome.