Mesopotamia By Rudyard Kipling 1917 They shall not return to us, the resolute, the young, The eager and whole-hearted whom we gave: But the men who left them thriftily to die in their own dung, Shall they come with years and honour to the grave? They shall not return to us, the strong men coldly slain In sight of help
The Ones Who Walk Toward Durasht You ask me what is the most indescribable thing in this universe. I cannot answer you directly, for it has no name. It is not a feeling. It is closer to an act — a small act, performed against every force arrayed to prevent it, which turns up in the unlikeliest places and blooms