In 1916 I was discharged from military service, or rather, given a sort of leave of absence on the understanding that I might be recalled within a few months. And so I was a free man, at least for a while.

I don't even like to talk about it. I hated being a number and not merely because I was a very small one. I let them bellow at me for just as long as it took me to find enough pluck to bellow back at them.

I was disappointed, not because we had lost the war but because our people had allowed it to go on for so many years, instead of heeding the few voices of protest against all that mass insanity and slaughter.

It's an old ploy of the bourgeoisie. They keep a standing 'art' to defend their collapsing culture.

It is my conviction that killing under the cloak of war is nothing but an act of murder.

Grozny's been largely rebuilt. But at the same time, I think the war is very much being waged inside its survivors.

To meet our troops was just wonderful, and I really, really admired the Iraqi security forces I met. I felt like, 'I'm pulling for you guys.' They want peace. They're working hard for it.

As a child, during the war, I drew Spitfires and Messerschmitts. With Spot, I found that I had designed a fuselage! His spot is on his side, the roundel marking of an English fighter plane, and the color bar of his tail is the color stripes of a plane's rudder.