Сила и слава

тишина иной раз, как шум, назойливо гудит в ушах.

Улыбка была надета, как маска, за которой он мог спокойно думать, не выдавая своих мыслей.

- Придет день, когда забудут, что здесь когда-то существовала Церковь.

<...> уныние так же входит в привычку, как набожность.

But that need not be so important. It only belongs to this life, a few years—it's over already. You can drop it all here, in this hut, and go on for ever...

He prayed silently: O God, send them someone more worthwhile to suffer for.

His corruption was less evident to his sense than his death.

Suddenly, he realized that he could see a face, and then another: he had begun to forget that it would ever be another day, just as one forgets that one will ever die.

It must sometimes be a comfort to a soldier that the atrocities on either side were equal: nobody was ever alone.

The years really meant nothing to him—they drifted fairly rapidly by without changing a habit.

"If they kill you I shan't forgive them—ever." She was ready to accept any responsibility, even that of vengeance, without a second thought. It was her life.

He said: "I try to remember how happy I was once."

She lay panic-stricken, while the boundaries of her fear widened and widened to include every relationship and the whole world of inanimate things: it was like an infection.

"Oh, treason," Captain Fellows said, all his interest dropping: there was so much treason everywhere—it was like petty larceny in a barracks.

Terror was always just behind her shoulder: she was wasted by the effort of not turning round.

...a wide shallow kinship with all the world moved with the bloodstream through the veins: he was at home anywhere.

He could not believe that to a watcher there this world could shine with such brilliance: it would roll heavily in space under its fog like a burning and abandoned ship

One of them rose and flapped across the town: over the tiny plaza, over the bust of an ex-president, ex-general, ex-human being, over the two stalls which sold mineral water, towards the river and the sea.

Дело не в том, что чудес не бывает, прoсто люди по-другому называют их.

Всем нам придется умереть... А когда, это не так уж важно.