Summer Meyers

“It was summer when we came up, the trees were still green, now it is autumn and the night is grey and wet. The lorries stop, we climb out--a confused heap, a remnant of many names. On either side stand people, dark, calling out the numbers of the brigades, the battalions. And at each call a little group separates itself off. A small handful of dirty, pallid soldiers, a dreadfully small handful, and a dreadfully small remnant.
Now someone is calling the number of our company, it is, yes, the Company Commander, he has come through, then; his arm is in a sling. We go over to him and I recognize Kat and Albert, we stand together, lean against each other, and look at one another.
And we hear the number of our company called again and again. He will call a long time, they do not hear him in the hospitals and shell-holes. Once again: "Second Company, this way!" And then more softly: "Nobody else, Second Company?"
He is silent, and then huskily he says: "Is that all?" he gives the order: "Number!"
The morning is grey, it was still summer when we came up, and we were one hundred and fifty strong. Now we freeze. It is autumn, the leaves strong. Now we freeze, is is autumn, the leaves rustle, the voices flutter out wearily: "One--two--three--four--" and cease at thirty-two. And there is a long silence before the voice asks: "Anyone else?"--and waits and then says softly: "In squads--" and then breaks off and is only able to finish: "Second Company--" with difficulty: "Second Company--march easy!"
A line, a short line trudges off into the morning.
Thirty-two men.”
― Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front

“Beings who've succeeded on earth for millennia don't seek, and should not require, our approval. They belong here as do we. We do ourselves no favors by asking whether their existence is worth our while. We are hardly in a position to judge, hurtling and lurching along as we are with no goal, no plan except: bigger, faster, more.”
― Carl Safina, Becoming Wild: How Animal Cultures Raise Families, Create Beauty, and Achieve Peace

“I take out my cigarettes, break each one in half, and give them to the Russians. ... Now red points glow in every face. They comfort me. It looks as though they are little windows in dark village cottages, saying that behind them are rooms full of peace.”
― Erich Maria Remarque, All Quiet on the Western Front

“Beauty is not superficial, or "mere", or a luxury. Beauty is the birthright of living beings. Imagine the unrelieved drudgery of a life without beauty. Subtract beauty, then consider all the grim imperatives and demands of finding food and shelter, competing, procreating; who would want to bother? Emerson wrote, "He thought it happier to be dead / To die for beauty, than live for bread." Beauty is the thing that makes life worth the time it takes. Beauty makes life worth the effort, the risks and the frights and the struggles that being alive requires. Beauty is the reward the frights and the struggles that being alive requires. Beauty is the reward our brains give us for making the effort to stay in the world. Beauty is what eases that effort into joy. Beauty makes our smiles, and gets us past the tears. I think it's that profound, that fundamental. I think that is what all beauties have in common, from the sight of a macaw and the song of a thrush to the deliciousness of good food, the touch of a loved one, or the fidgets of someone small who needs their diaper changed. So maybe we could write, "She found it happier to be here / To walk in beauty, than shrink in fear." Beauty makes us love what it takes to live.”
― Carl Safina, Becoming Wild: How Animals Learn Who They Are