I Became An Ardent, But Never A

My Father, Though, Could Run Very Much Faster. It Was Impossible To Compete With Him On The Grass. But It Was Astonishing How Slow Old People Were. Some Of Them Could Not Run Up A Hill And Called It Trying To Climb Stairs.

The Appalling Thing About War Is That It Kills All Love Of Truth.

I Encountered Among My Comrades The Most Varied Human Traits, From Frankness To Reserve, From Goodness, Uprightness And Kindness, To Brutality And Baseness.

The War Imbued My Tin Soldiers With Quite A New Interest. It Was Impossible To Have Boxes Enough Of Them.

The Great Man Is Not The Child Of His Age But Its Step-child.