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WOW

And yet if one looks closely the marks of the years can be seen in their faces.

It was at this period that Drago realised how far apart men are whatever their affection for each other, that if you suffer the pain is yours and yours alone, no one else can take upon himself the least part of it; that if you suffer it does not mean that others feel pain even though their love is great: hence the loneliness of life.

It is difficult to believe in a thing when one is alone and there is no one
to speak to.

there is no time to halt even for a second, not even for a glance behind. one feels like crying, but then one sees it is useless. Everything goes by, men, seasons, the clouds, and there is no use clinging to the stones, no use fighting it out on some rock in midstream; the tired fingers open, the arms fall back inertly and you are still dragged into the river, the river which seems to flow so slowly yet never stops.

"I have learnt to accept things," said the major. "Year by year I have learned to want less. If I am lucky I shall go home with the rank of colonel."
"And then?" asked Drago.

At the bottom of his heart, he is even pleased in a fainthearted way at having avoided sudden changes in his mode of life, at being able to go back, as he was, to his old habits.

Always the same faces, he thinks instinctively, always the same talk, the same duties, the same documents.

Many, many years ago in happier times...
seriously? when is this past that almost everyone and any culture brags about it being such a happy time?!!