We Like To Have Work To Do,

To Avenge A Wrong Done To You, Is To Rob Yourself Of The Comfort Of Crying Out Against The Injustice Of It.

Now That I've Seen What War Is, What Civil War Is, I Know That Everybody, If One Day It Should End, Ought To Ask Himself: "and What Shall We Make Of The Fallen? Why Are They Dead?" I Wouldn't Know What To Say. Not Now, At Any Rate. Nor Does It Seem To Me That The Others Know. Perhaps Only Dead Know, And Only For Them Is The War Really Over.

The Act The Act Must Not Be A Revenge. It Must Be A Calm, Weary Renunciation, A Closing Of Accounts, A Private, Rhythmic Deed. The Last Remark.

Perfect Behaviour Is Born Of Complete Indifference.

Things Are Revealed Through The Memories We Have Of Them. Remembering A Thing Means Seeing It Only Then For The First Time.