Courage Is The Fairest Adornment

The Music Enchanted The Air. It Was Like The South Wind, Like A Warm Night, Like Swelling Sails Beneath The Stars, Completely And Utterly Unreal... It Made Everything Spacious And Colourful, The Dark Stream Of Life Seemed Pulsing In It; There Were No Burdens Any More, No Limits; There Existed Only Glory And Melody And Love, So That One Simply Could Not Realize That, At The Same Time As This Music Was, Outside There Ruled Poverty And Torment And Despair.

We Have So Much To Say, And We Shall Never Say It.

But Now, For The First Time, I See You Are A Man Like Me. I Thought Of Your Hand-grenades, Of Your Bayonet, Of Your Rifle; Now I See Your Wife And Your Face And Our Fellowship. Forgive Me, Comrade. We Always See It Too Late. Why Do They Never Tell Us That You Are Poor Devils Like Us, That Your Mothers Are Just As Anxious As Ours, And That We Have The Same Fear Of Death, And The Same Dying And The Same Agony - Forgive Me, Comrade; How Could You Be My Enemy?

We Are Little Flames Poorly Sheltered By Frail Walls Against The Storm Of Dissolution And Madness, In Which We Flicker And Sometimes Almost Go Out…we Creep In Upon Ourselves And With Big Eyes Stare Into The Night…and Thus We Wait For Morning.

Mirrors Are There When We Are And Yet They Never Give Anything Back To Us But Our Own Image. Never, Never Shall We Know What They Are When They Are Alone Or What Is Behind Them.