If We Do Not Redefine Manhood, War

Today The Somme Is A Peaceful But Sullen Place, Unforgetting And Unforgiving. ... To Wander Now Over The Fields Destined To Extrude Their Rusty Metal Fragments For Centuries Is To Appreciate In The Most Intimate Way The Permanent Reverberations Of July, 1916. When The Air Is Damp You Can Smell Rusted Iron Everywhere, Even Though You See Only Wheat And Barley.

The Wise Traveler Learns Not To Repeat Successes But Tries New Places All The Time.

Exploration Belongs To The Renaissance, Travel To The Bourgeois Age, Tourism To Our Proletarian Moment.

So Many Bright Futures Consigned To The Ashes Of The Past.so Many Dreams Lost In The Madness That Had Engulfed Us.except For A Few Widely Scattered Shouts Of Joy,the Survivors Of The Abyss Sat Hollow-eyed And Silent, Trying To Comprehend A World Without War.

Travel At Its Truest Is Thus An Ironic Experience, And The Best Travellers . . . Seem To Be Those Able To Hold Two Or Three Inconsistent Ideas In Their Minds At The Same Time, Or Able To Regard Themselves As At Once Serious Persons And Clowns.