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One Morning in the War: The Tragedy at Son My

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Richard Hammer

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“I was going home. But home, too, was hard to get an image of, harder still to think beyond the last curved enclosure of the desert, where it seemed I had left the better portion of myself as one among innumerable grains of sand, how in the end the weather-beaten stone is not one stone but only that which has been weathered, a result, an example of slow erosion on a thing by wind or waves that break against it, so that the else of anyone involved ends up deposited like silt spilling out into an estuary, or gathered at the bottom of a river in a city that is all you can remember.”

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“The machine could understand a man who would kill, but it couldn't understand one who wouldn't. Each part of the machine-the U.S. Attorney, the judge-were nice enough in themselves. They were courteous and likable. But the human parts put together made a big vicious mechanical machine that seemed to possess, instead of feeling, only a brute force.”

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Book:A Field of Broken Stones: The Prison Memoirs of a World War Two Conscientious Objector
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“Seu maior aliado nessa incrível expansão de poder e influência foi o cavalo. Usando cordas, chicotes e qualquer tática cruel que pudesse engendrar, Genghis Khan utilizou a força, a estamina e a velocidade do cavalo. Os cavalos não tinham como reagir àquela crueldade. Eles não tinham voz. Mas... eles tinham uma língua. Ninguém viu isso, ninguém tentou ver isso, mas ela estava lá; ela existia naqueles tempos como existe hoje.”

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“Vae Victis" Written by R.J. Williamson What gods hast thou, that bow before the might of mortal men? Surrendered now in ignorance; enslaved before the pen Of magistrates and potentates less powerful than thee: What makers vested strength within the legs that bend the knee? What then of their countenance, their handiwork to see? Cry then! Cry out unto them and witness unto me! What chains and shackles hobble thee – what burden giveth pause? What fearsome power maketh thee unworthy of thy cause? What of the faith and principles thou surely must despise, To supplicate in deference before a throne of lies? Count for me the years before the soul of freedom dies. Art thou now a servant and a slave in thine own eyes? What fools are we, who in false grace before accusers bowed And in our hubris and our haste their tyranny allowed.”

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