My friend, you would not tell with such high zest to children ardent for some desperate glory. The old lie: It is sweet and fitting that you should die for your country.

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle? Only the monstrous anger of the guns.

All the poet can do today is warn. That is why true Poets must be truthful.

Children are not meant to be studied, but enjoyed. Only by studying to be pleased do we understand them.

Red lips are not so red as the stained stones kissed by the English dead.

The marvel is that we did not all die of cold. As a matter of fact, only one of my party actually froze to death before he could be got back, but I am not able to tell how many have ended up in hospital. We were marooned in a frozen desert. There was not a sign of life on the horizon and a thousand signs of death.

All theological lore is becoming distasteful to me.