You May Turn Into An Archangel, A

We Lie Under The Network Of Arching Shells And Live In A Suspense Of Uncertainty. If A Shot Comes, We Can Duck, That Is All; We Neither Know Nor Can Determine Where It Will Fall." - All Quiet On The Western Front, Ch. 6

No Soldier Outlives A Thousand Chances. But Every Soldier Believes In Chance And Trusts His Luck.

One Often Feels As Though Something Had Happened Before, I Remember. It Comes Quite Close To You And Stands There And You Know It Was Just This Way Once Before, Exactly So; For An Instant You Almost Know How It Must Go On, But Then It Disappears As You Try To Lay Hold Of It Like Smoke Or A Dead Memory. "we Could Never Remember, Isabelle," I Say. "it's Like The Rain. That Has Also Become One, Out Of Two Gasses, Oxygen And Hydrogen, Which No Longer Remember They Were Once Gasses. Now They Are Only Rain And Have No Memory Of An Earlier Time.

I Felt The First Soft Glow Of Intoxication That Makes The Blood Warmer And Spreads An Illusion Of Adventure Over Uncertainty.

We're No Longer Young Men. We've Lost Any Desire To Conquer The World. We Are Refugees. We Are Fleeing From Ourselves. From Our Lives. We Were Eighteen Years Old, And We Had Just Begun To Love The World And To Love Being In It; But We Had To Shoot At It. The First Shell To Land Went Straight For Our Hearts. We've Been Cut Off From Real Action, From Getting On, From Progress. We Don't Believe In Those Things Any More; We Believe In The War.