I doubt we will ever be forgiven. All I hope is – they'll remember we were human beings

I write against violence. I write against fascism. I write against one person dominating another.

... too much brooding, not enough doing.

They waited. The door did not open. The rain did not stop. The darkness made a tent and covered them completely.

What you people who weren't yet born can never know is what it meant to sleep in cities under silent falls of snow when all night long the only sounds you heard were dogs that parked at trains that passed so far away they took a short cut through your dreams and no one even woke. It was the war that changed that. It was. After the Great War for Civilization - sleep was different everywhere.

Think of any great man or woman. How can you separate them from the years in which they lived? You can't. Their greatness lies in their response to that moment.

Complaints about reality are immature.