The Desert Is An Ocean In Which

Suppose We Were (as We Might Be) An Influence, An Idea, A Thing Intangible, Invulnerable, Without Front Or Back, Drifting About Like A Gas? Armies Were Like Plants, Immobile, Firm-rooted, Nourished Through Long Stems To The Head. We Might Be A Vapour, Blowing Where We Listed Ours Should Be A War Of Detachment. We Were To Contain The Enemy By The Silent Threat Of A Vast, Unknown Desert

The Beginning And Ending Of The Secret Of Handling Arabs Is Unremitting Study Of Them.

To Have News Value Is To Have A Tin Can Tied To One's Tail.

The Beduin Of The Desert, Born And Grown Up In It, Had Embraced With All His Sour This Nakedness Too Harsh For Volunteers, For The Reason, Felt But Inarticulate, That There He Found Himself Indubitably Free.

The Dreamers Of The Day Are Dangerous... For They May Act Their Dream With Open Eyes, To Make It Possible.