The war had made a man of him! It had coarsened him and hardened him. There was no other way to look at it. It had made him reach a point at which he would no longer stand unbearable things.

I hate war as only a soldier who has lived it can, only as one who has seen its brutality, its futility, its stupidity.

(Athenian embassy:) Realise, while there is time, the inscrutable nature of war; and how when protracted it generally ends in becoming a mere matter of chance, over which neither of us can have any control, the event being equally unknown and equally hazardous to both.

The misfortune is that in their hurry to go to war, men begin with blows, and when a reverse comes upon them, then have recourse to words.

(Book 1 Chapter 78.1-3)

To him, as to me, the War was inevitable and justifiable. Courage remained a virtue. And that exploitation of courage, if I may be allowed to say a thing so obvious, was the essential tragedy of the War, which, as everyone now agrees, was a crime against humanity.

No rational response was possible. Her irrationality made it so. The terrible power, he thought, of illogic.

There is a war going on out there, and it's only worth waking to the dying night if you are prepared to be utterly ruthless'; a war - he kept scanning the rooftops - where everything is engaged in a conflict that has no rules; a war in which one side must continually besiege the other, in which to aim at anything but victory was pointless. It was a struggle in which the only power to remain standing was that which looked for no reasons, which was content to accept that the whole thing should remain without an explanation, because - and here he remembered The Prince's advice - it simply didn't exist...

To say that war is madness is like saying that sex is madness: true enough, from the standpoint of a stateless eunuch, but merely a provocative epigram for those who must make their arrangements in the world as given.

Presently he began to feel the effects of the war atmosphere — a blistering sweat, a sensation that his eyeballs were about to crack like hot stones. A burning roar filled his ears. Following this came a red rage. He developed the acute exasperation of a pestered animal, a well-meaning cow worried by dogs. He had a mad feeling against his rifle, which could only be used against one life at a time. He wished to rush forward and strangle with his fingers. He craved a power that would enable him to make a world-sweeping gesture and brush all back. His impotency appeared to him, and made his rage into that of a driven beast.

Against the background of the War and its brutal stupidity those men had stood glorified by the thing which sought to destroy them…. I

All war is a symptom of man's failure as a thinking animal.

He realized what a fool he had been. There could be no tolerating of evil. One stamped it out or the evil grew worse.

That is the explanation of war, an outrage by humanity upon humanity in despite of humanity.

Pierre's insanity consisted in the face that he did not wait, as before, for personal reasons, which he called people's merits, in order to love them, but love overflowed his heart, and loving people without reason, he discovered the unquestionable reasons for which it was worth loving them.

The Great War was born in anger. The war rising around us will come in hatred wrapped in a flag, with a madman at the helm. And that is the war I fear most