Strange How Complicated We Can

There Was Only The Broad Square With The Scattered Dim Moons Of The Street Lamps And With The Monumental Stone Arch Which Receded Into The Mist As Though It Would Prop Up The Melancholy Sky And Protect Beneath Itself The Faint Lonely Flame On The Tomb Of The Unknown Soldier, Which Looked Like The Last Grave Of Mankind In The Midst Of Night And Loneliness.

Everyone Saves Someone At Least Once. Just As He Kills Someone At Least Once. Even Though He May Not Know It.

They Are More To Me Than Life, These Voices, They Are More Than Motherliness And More Than Fear; They Are The Strongest, Most Comforting Thing There Is Anywhere: They Are The Voices Of My Comrades.

All Quiet On The Western Front.

On The Steps Is A Machine-gun Ready For Action. The Square Is Empty; Only The Streets That Lead Into It Are Jammed With People. It Would Be Madness To Go Farther - The Machine-gun Is Covering The Square.