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1. While they continued to write and talk we saw the wounded and the dying page 13 2. I see the pictures before me. They twist themselves into corkscrews and grow and grow, and with them the hair on the decaying skull, just like grass in a good soil, just like grass, how can it be possible page 15 3. A grand smell gradually fills the hut. The noises increase in volume, pass into my dreams and yet linger in my memory.
page 95 4. Bombardment, barrage, curtain-fire, mines, words, words, but they hold the horror of the world. page 132 5. We see men living with their skulls blown open; we see soldiers run with their feet cut off, they stagger on their splintered stumps into the next shell-hole; a lance-corporal crawls a mile and a half on his hands dragging his smashed knee after him; another goes to the dressing station and over his clasped hands bulge his intestines; we see men without mouth, without jaws, without faces; we find one man who has held the artery of his arm in his teeth for two hours in order not to bleed to death. page 134 6. Over there lies a body with nothing but a piece of the underpants on one on leg and the collar of the tunic around his neck.
Otherwise it is naked and the clothes are hanging up in the tree. Both arms are missing as though they had been pulled out. I discover one of them twenty yards off in a shrub. page 208 7. A surprise gas-attack carries off a lot of them. They have not yet learned what to do.
We found one dugout full of them, with blue heads and black lips. page 131 8. It is nearly noon. The sun blazes hotly, the sweat stings in our eyes, we wipe it off on our sleeves and often blood with it. page 114 9.
The next throw whizzes obliquely over the corner and clears a passage; as we run past we toss handfuls down into the dug-outs, the earth shudders, it crashes, smokes and groans, we stumble over slippery lumps of flesh, over yielding bodies; I fall into an open belly on which lies a clean, new officers cap. page 117 10. But here in the trenches they are completely lost to us. They arise no more; we are dead and they stand remote on the horizon, they are a mysterious reflection, an apparition, that haunts us, that we fear and love without hope. They are strong and our desire is strong-but they are unattainable, and we know it. page 121 Bibliography:
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