author - "Henri Barbusse"
fairs of theworld and almost from the world itself, whose faculties are deepenedby suffering and meditation, as far remote from their fellow men asif they were already of the Future--these men look deeply into thedistance, towards the unknowable land of the living and the insane.
"Austria's act is a crime," says the Austrian.
"France must win," says the Englishman.
"I hope Germany will be beaten," says the German.
They settle down again under the blankets and on the pillows,looking to heaven and the high peaks. But in spite of that vastpurity, the silence is filled with the dire disclosure of a momentbefore.
War!
Some of the invalids break the silence, and say the word again undertheir breath, reflecting that this is the greatest happening of theage, and perhaps of all ages. Even on the lucid landscape at whichthey gaze the news casts something like a vague and somber mirage.
The tranquil expanses of the valley, adorned with soft and smoothpastures and hamlets rosy as the rose,
fairs of theworld and almost from the world itself, whose faculties are deepenedby suffering and meditation, as far remote from their fellow men asif they were already of the Future--these men look deeply into thedistance, towards the unknowable land of the living and the insane.
"Austria's act is a crime," says the Austrian.
"France must win," says the Englishman.
"I hope Germany will be beaten," says the German.
They settle down again under the blankets and on the pillows,looking to heaven and the high peaks. But in spite of that vastpurity, the silence is filled with the dire disclosure of a momentbefore.
War!
Some of the invalids break the silence, and say the word again undertheir breath, reflecting that this is the greatest happening of theage, and perhaps of all ages. Even on the lucid landscape at whichthey gaze the news casts something like a vague and somber mirage.
The tranquil expanses of the valley, adorned with soft and smoothpastures and hamlets rosy as the rose,