And The Wind Upon Its

For It Is Humanly Certain That Most Of Us Remember Very Little Of What We Have Read. To Open Almost Any Book A Second Time Is To Be Reminded That We Had Forgotten Well-nigh Everything That The Writer Told Us. Parting From The Narrator And His Narrative, We Retain Only A Fading Impression; And He, As It Were, Takes The Book Away From Us And Tucks It Under His Arm.

If I Were Fierce, And Bald, And Short Of Breath,i'd Live With Scarlet Majors At The Base,and Speed Glum Heroes Up The Line Of Death.

Man, It Seemed, Had Been Created To Jab The Life Out Of Germans.

Let My Soul, A Shining Tree, Silver Branches Lift Towards Thee, Where On A Hallowed Winter's Night The Clear-eyed Angels May Alight.

Mud And Rain And Wretchedness And Blood. Why Should Jolly Soldier-boys Complain? God Made These Before The Roofless Flood - Mud And Rain.