I Was Wrong To Grow Older. Pity.

All Of Us Have Had The Experience Of A Sudden Joy That Came When Nothing In The World Had Forewarned Us Of Its Coming - A Joy So Thrilling That If It Was Born Of Misery We Remembered Even The Misery With Tenderness.

She Knew This Man's Smile, His Gentle Ways Of Love, But Not His Godlike Fury In The Storm. She Might Snare Him In A Fragile Net Of Music, Love And Flowers, But, At Each Departure, He Would Break Forth Without, It Seemed To Her, The Least Regret.

Are Wars... Anything But The Means Whereby A Nation's Problems Are Set, Where Creation Is Stimulated - There You Have Adventure. But There Is No Adventure In Heads-or-tails, In Betting That The Toss Will Come Out Of Life Or Death. War Is Not An Adventure. It Is A Disease. It Is Like Typhus.

How Desperately Difficult It Is To Be Honest With Oneself. It Is Much Easier To Be Honest With Other People.what Is True Is Invisible To The Eye. It Is Only With The Heart That One Can See Clearly.

Only He Can Understand What A Farm Is, What A Country Is, Who Shall Have Sacrificed Part Of Himself To His Farm Or Country, Fought To Save It, Struggled To Make It Beautiful. Only Then Will The Love Of Farm Or Country Fill His Heart.