Swinging first and swinging to kill is all that matters now.

Our artillery has really been sensational. For once we have enough of something and at the right time. Officers tell me they actually have more guns than they know what to do with.

War makes strange giant creatures out of us little routine men who inhabit the earth.

Thoughts are wonderful things, that they can bring two people, so far apart, into harmony and understanding for even a little while.

Say what you will, nothing can make a complete soldier except battle experience.

I've been immersed in it too long. My spirit is wobbly and my mind is confused. The hurt has become too great.

Below us the Thames grew lighter, and all around below were the shadows - the dark shadows of buildings and bridges that formed the base of this dreadful masterpiece.

For me war has become a flat, black depression without highlights, a revulsion of the mind and an exhaustion of the spirit.

If you go long enough without a bath, even the fleas will let you alone.

There is no sense in the struggle, but there is no choice but to struggle.

About every two minutes a new wave of planes would be over. The motors seemed to grind rather than roar, and to have an angry pulsation like a bee buzzing in blind fury.

Hell had frozen over and I was lost in its endless labyrinth.

Everyone needs beauty. Even beautiful people"From "Central Park Song

Waking up is the dangerous act of worship. It's dangerous because worship is meant to produce lives fully attentive to reality as God sees it, and that's more than most of us want to deal with.

Wow. Whoops. Sorry. ... I just lost two hours inside a YouTube kitten warp.

I used to love hand raising.

But nothing disturbs the feeling of specialness like the presence of other human beings feeling identically special.

All children can do things to help, whether how big or small - by donating toys or lending a hand in the community.

Tombs are the clothes of the dead and a grave is a plain suit; while an expensive monument is one with embroidery.

I've never gone for the smooth, suave Latin or French lover. That usually makes me think they're trying to pull one over on me.

Where the world ends The mind is made unchanging, for it finds Miracle, ecstasy, the impossible hope, The flagstone under all, the fire of fires, The roots of the world.