I Wandered Through The Streets Thinking Of

-why Does A Man Live? -in Order To Think About It.

I Had The Feeling Of Slipping Down A Smooth Bottomless Pit. It Had Nothing To Do With Breuer And The People. It Had Nothing To Do With Pat Even. It Was The Melancholy Secret That Reality Can Arouse Desires But Never Satisfy Them; That Love Begins With A Human Being But Does Not End In Him; And That Everything Can Be There: A Human Being, Love, Happiness, Life — And That Yet In Some Terrible Way It Is Always Too Little, And Grows Ever Less The More It Seems.

My Rage Outweighs My Shame, As Always Happens When One Is Really Ashamed And Knows He Ought To Be.

The Miracle Has Passed Me By; It Has Touched But Not Changed Me; I Still Have The Same Name And I Know I Will Probably Bear It Until The End Of My Days; I Am No Phoenix; Resurrection Is Not For Me; I Have Tried To Fly But I Am Tumbling Like A Dazzled, Awkward Rooster Back To Earth, Back Behind The Barbed Wires.

In Any Case, The Bayonet Isn't As Important As It Used To Be. It's More Usual Now To Go Into The Attack With Hand-grenades And Your Entrenching Tool. The Sharpened Spade Is A Lighter And More Versatile Weapon - Not Only Can You Get A Man Under The Chin, But More To The Point, You Can Strike A Blow With A Lot More Force Behind It. That's Especially True If You Can Bring It Down Diagonally Between The Neck And The Shoulder, Because Then You Can Split Down As Far As The Chest. When You Put A Bayonet In, It Can Stick, And You Have To Give The Other Man A Hefty Kick In The Guts To Get It Out.