My Subject Is War, And The Pity

Sweet And Fitting It Is To Die For The Fatherland.

No-man's Land Under Snow Is Like The Face Of The Moon: Chaotic, Crater Ridden, Uninhabitable, Awful, The Abode Of Madness.

I Was A Boy When I First Realized That The Fullest Life Liveable Was A Poet's

Above All I Am Not Concerned With Poetry. My Subject Is War, And The Pity Of War. The Poetry Is In The Pity.

All Theological Lore Is Becoming Distasteful To Me.