Be bullied, be outraged, by killed, but do not kill.

No-man's land under snow is like the face of the moon: chaotic, crater ridden, uninhabitable, awful, the abode of madness.

The war affects me less than it ought. But I can do no service to anybody by agitating for news or making dole over the slaughter.

As bronze may be much beautified by lying in the dark damp soil, so men who fade in dust of warfare fade fairer, and sorrow blooms their soul.

My subject is war, and the pity of war.

The old happiness is unreturning. Boy's griefs are not so grievous as youth's yearning. Boys have no sadness sadder than our hope.

I was a boy when I first realized that the fullest life liveable was a Poet's