Those who have no hope pass their old age shrouded with an inward gloom.
Flying is the only active profession I would ever continue with enthusiasm after the War.
My subject is War, and the pity of War. The Poetry is in the pity.
After all my years of playing soldiers, and then of reading History, I have almost a mania to be in the East, to see fighting, and to serve.
Never fear: Thank Home, and Poetry, and the Force behind both.
All a poet can do today is warn.