The Desert Is An Ocean In Which

Do Not Try And Do Too Much With Your Own Hands. Better The Arabs Do It Tolerably Than You Do It Perfectly. It Is Their War, And You Are To Help Them, Not Win It For Them.

Isn't It True That The Fault Of Birth Rests Somewhat On The Child? I Believe It's We Who Led Our Parents On To Bear Us, And It's Our Unborn Children Who Make Our Flesh Itch.

I Wrote My Will Across The Sky, In Stars

The Beduin Could Not Look For God Within Him: He Was Too Sure That He Was Within God.

Suppose We Were (as We Might Be) An Influence, An Idea, A Thing Intangible, Invulnerable, Without Front Or Back, Drifting About Like A Gas? Armies Were Like Plants, Immobile, Firm-rooted, Nourished Through Long Stems To The Head. We Might Be A Vapour, Blowing Where We Listed Ours Should Be A War Of Detachment. We Were To Contain The Enemy By The Silent Threat Of A Vast, Unknown Desert