I Try Not To Take

Someday When Peace Has Returned To This Odd World I Want To Come To London Again And Stand On A Certain Balcony On A Moonlit Night And Look Down Upon The Peaceful Silver Curve Of The Thames With Its Dark Bridges.

But To The Fighting Soldier That Phase Of The War Is Behind. It Was Left Behind After His First Battle. His Blood Is Up. He Is Fighting For His Life, And Killing Now For Him Is As Much A Profession As Writing Is For Me.

If I Can Just See The European War Out I Think I Might Feel Justified In Quitting The War.

About Every Two Minutes A New Wave Of Planes Would Be Over. The Motors Seemed To Grind Rather Than Roar, And To Have An Angry Pulsation Like A Bee Buzzing In Blind Fury.

There Is No Sense In The Struggle, But There Is No Choice But To Struggle.