When
you're wounded and left
On Afghanistan's plains,
And the women come out
To cut up your remains,
Just roll on your rifle
And blow out your brains,
And go to your Gawd like a soldier.
Rudyard Kipling writing about Afghanistan |
VLADIMIR: That passed the time.
ESTRAGON: It would have passed in any case.
VLADIMIR: Yes, but not so rapidly.
SAMUEL BECKETT: [Waiting for Godot, I]
|