I wish those people who write so glibly about this being a holy War, and the orators who talk so much about going on no matter how long the War lasts and what it may mean, could see a case--to say nothing of 10 cases--of mustard gas in its early stages--could see the poor things burnt and blistered all over with great mustard-coloured suppurating blisters, with blind eyes--sometimes temporally, sometimes permanently--all sticky and stuck together, and always fighting for breath, with voices a mere whisper, saying that their throats are closing and they know they will choke.
Vera BrittainAbout author
- Author's profession: Writer
- Nationality: english
- Born: December 29, 1893
- Died: March 29, 1970
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I will endeavor to clarify my statement," said the Thing. A few lights flashed."Jolly good," said Masklin."Big-fella Store him go Bang along plenty soon enough chop-chop?" said the Thing, hopefully. The nomes watched one another's faces. There didn't seem to be any light dawning. The Thing cleared it's throat again. "Do you know the meaning of the word 'destroyed'?" it said."Oh, yes," said Dorcas."That's what is going to happen to the Store. In twenty-one days.
Terry Prachett