|poster from WWI|
I decided to pull this story from my shelf when I read an article about Jane Bowles, "She Wrote Like a Colt .45," in the Wall Street Journal, January 28-29, 2017. "After she read Katherine Anne Porter's story "Pale Horse, Pale Rider," she wrote him [Paul Bowles] that she found it so sad and depressing that 'it has completely ruined my evening,' but she doesn't really like it, which puzzles her. 'I keep forgetting what writing is supposed to be anyway,' she says and asks him to write back and explain to her what it means."
"In the street, they lit their cigarettes and walked slowly as always. 'Just another nasty old man who would like to see the young ones killed,' said Miranda in a low voice; 'the tom-cats try to eat the little tom-kittens, you know. They don't fool you really, do they, Adam?'"
"The young people were talking like that about the business by then. They felt they were seeing pretty clearly through that game. She went on, 'I hate these potbellied baldheads, too fat, too old, too cowardly, to go to war themselves, they know they're safe; it's you they are sending instead--'"
"'...the worst of war is the fear and suspicion and the awful expression in all the eyes you meet . . . as if they had pulled down the shutters over their minds and their hearts and were peering out at you, ready to leap if you make one gesture or say one word they do not understand instantly.'"