We Have So Much To Say, And

A Man Can Gasp Out His Life Beside You-and You Feel None Of It. Pity, Sympathy, Sure-but You Don't Feel The Pain. Your Belly Is Whole And That's What Counts. A Half-yard Away Someone's World Is Snuffled Out In Roaring Agony-and You Feel Nothing. That's The Misery Of The World.

Heaven Has No Favorites

Kropp On The Other Hand Is A Thinker. He Proposes That A Declaration Of War Should Be A Kind Of Popular Festival With Entrance-tickets And Bands, Like A Bull Fight. Then In The Arena The Ministers And Generals Of The Two Countries, Dressed In Bathing-drawers And Armed With Clubs, Can Have It Out On Themselves. Whoever Survives The Country Wins. That Would Be Much Simpler And More Than Just This Arrangement, Where The Wrong People Do The Fighting

We March Up, Moody Or Good-tempered Soldiers - We Reach The Zone Where The Front Begins And Become On The Instant Human Animals.

Good Or Ill, Life Is Life; You Only Realize That When You Have To Risk It.