There is poetry in a pork chop to a hungry man.
We who go out to die shall be remembered, because we gave the world peace. That will be our reward, though we will know nothing of it, but lie rotting in the earth - dead.
It is better to give than to lend, and it costs about the same.
In less than twenty-five years . . . the motor-car will be obsolete, because the aeroplane will run along the ground as well as fly over it.
If there is anything I've learned, is that piety is smarter than hate, that mercy is preferable even to justice itself, that if you go around the world with friendly look, one does good friends.
At all costs we must re-establish faith in spiritual values. We must worship something beyond ourselves, lest we destroy ourselves.
During the early months of the war in 1914 there was a conflict of opinion between the War Office and the Foreign Office regarding news from the Front.
It was so quiet that morning in Paris that the heels of my two companions and myself were loud on the deserted pavements. It was a city of shuttered shops, and barred windows, and deserted avenues.
It was announced as a French victory by the French Minister of War. I did not see any sign of victory but only the retreat of the French forces engaged in the battle.
But do you know, I shall not be sorry to die. I shall be glad, Monsieur. And why glad, you ask? Because I love France and hate the Germans who have put this war on us.
I am going to fight - I, a socialist and Syndicalist - so that we shall make an end to war, so that the little ones of France will sleep in peace, and the women go without fear.
But the worst handicap we had the prohibition of naming individual units who had done the fighting.
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