The soldiers lie in the grey morning. Thickets separate them. They are on manoeuvres. They are at war with their hands, their eyes, their foreheads.
The soldiers lie in the grey morning. Thickets separate them. They are on manoeuvres. They are at war with their hands, their eyes, their foreheads.
And there they ring the walls, the young, the lithe. The handsome hold the graves they won in Troy; the enemy earth rides over those who conquered.
When I write to please everybody, it falls flat. When I write what I know, fearlessly, It won't please everybody, but it doesn't fall flat.
No war is ever glorious. Heroes are usually dead. Besides, they rarely turn into heroes because they are super-humans, but because of circumstances.
A fantastically huge, roiling cloud, glowing bluish gray, swaggered over the city. It was more than three miles tall. Below it Hiroshima was boiling.
He remembered his mother's love for him, and his family's, and his friends', and the enemy's intention to kill him seemed impossible.
Blood looks like red wine, but doesn’t go as well with cheese. And too much is spilled in war. No wine should ever be spilled on a battlefield.
Why had his mother gone to the trouble of bringing him into the world if the most exciting moment in his life was having been made lame by a bayonet?
Centomila gavette vuote di cibo, colme di ghiaccio, costellavano la neve e segnavano la sorte dei combattenti imprigionati nella sacca presso il Don.
There is what we desire to do, and what we are able to do. When those two things don’t coincide, which path should we pursue to find happiness?
The nicest veterans in Schenectady, I thought, the kindest and funniest ones, the ones who hated war the most, were the ones who'd really fought.
When I got home from my war, my uncle Dan clapped me on the back, and he bellowed, 'You're a MAN now!'I damn near killed my first German.
I'm a fucking coward.""Maybe." Craw jerked his thumb over his shoulder at Whirrun's corpse. "There's a hero. Tell me who's better off.
Good leaders come together to solve problems in order to make a peaceful coexistence, but just a single soul can become the leathery meat in the soup.
I have no doubt that we will be successful in harnessing the sun s energy If sunbeams were weapons of war we would have had solar energy centuries ago