Status Updates From L'adieu aux armes

…the dark November water of the lake…

If people bring so much courage to this world, the world has to kill them to break them, so of course it kills them. The world breaks every one and afterward many are strong at the broken places. But those that will not break it kills. It kills the very good and the very gentle and the very brave impartially. If you are none of these, you can be sure it will kill you too, but there will be no special hurry.

“Don’t talk about the war,“ I said. The war was a long way away. Maybe there wasn’t any war. There was no war here. Then I realized it was over for me. But I did not have the feeling that it was really over. I had the feeling of a boy who thinks of what is happening at a certain hour at the schoolhouse from which he has played truant.

…and then it was not your body anymore. The head was mine, and the inside of the belly. It was very hungry in there. I could feel it turned over on itself. The head was mine, but not to use, not to think with, only to remember and not too much remember.

Lying on the floor of the flat-car with the guns beside me under the canvas I was wet, cold, and very hungry. Finally, I rolled over and lay flat on my stomach with my head on my arms. My knee was stiff, but it had been very satisfactory. Valentini had done a fine job. I had done half the retreat on foot and swam part of the Tagliamento with his knee. It was his knee all right. Doctors did things to you …