And By His Smile, I

If I Have To Be A Soldier I Must Be A Good One, Anything Else Is Unthinkable

The War Affects Me Less Than It Ought. But I Can Do No Service To Anybody By Agitating For News Or Making Dole Over The Slaughter.

Flying Is The Only Active Profession I Could Ever Continue With Enthusiasm After The War.

Was It For This The Clay Grew Tall?

I Am Only Conscious Of Any Satisfaction In Scientific Reading Or Thinking When It Rounds Off Into A Poetical Generality And Vagueness.