My words like eyes that flinch from light, refuse And shut upon obscurity; my acts Cast to their opposites by impatient violence Break up the sequent… - Stephen Spender

All have become so nervous and so cold That each man hates the cause and distant words Which brought him here, more terribly than bullets.

Never to allow gradually the traffic to smother / With noise and fog the flowering of the spirit.

Near the snow,near the sun , in the highest field
See how those names are feted by the wavering grass,
And by the streamers of white cloud,
And whispers of wind in the listening sky;
The names of those who in their lives have fought for life,
Who wore at their hearts the fire's centre.
Born of the sun they traveled a short while towrads the sun.
And left the vivid air signed with their honour.