You Were The Dead; Theirs Was The

They Had Come To A Time When No One Dared Speak His Mind, When Fierce, Growling Dogs Roamed Everywhere, And When You Had To Watch Your Comrades Torn To Pieces After Confessing To Shocking Crimes.

Writing A Book Is A Horrible, Exhausting Struggle, Like A Long Bout Of Some Painful Illness.

I Often Wondered Whether Any Of The Others Grasped That I Had Done It Solely To Avoid Looking A Fool.

The Pleasures Of Spring Are Available To Everybody And Cost Nothing.

...the Object Of Waging A War Is Always To Be In A Better Position In Which To Wage Another War.