The Art Of Life

The composition who was leading us into this battle field adjacent to kill an hour ago, was now telling us to relax, and recidivate of lost forgotten time. A tear came to my eye as the thought that I will never see my erotic love again. never to hold, or to praise. As the man sitting on the joggle behind me stud to his feet with weapon in fall started to go to the front. I could notice the words filled with much(prenominal) angst comming from hidden with in him, on that point is to much in this world that I have never felt, fear of death, Or the honor of war. The man fought proudly, and his life was taken by a better man. on that lonesum day, many were lost. The few that lived show at that place scars from the honor of war, on that point marks of death, to every that would stop to hear them. The names, faces, have all been changed over the years. The stories have rang true for the ones that did not come spikelet alive.

Men Younger than I am now, forever saved in time by the stories of at that place herroic acts. That is the true honor.A protagonist is some on that dies young, I hear them say erstwhile in a while. notwithstanding a true mavin is some one that gives there life for there cause, whitethorn it be noble. If you want to irritate a full essay, pronounce it on our website: OrderCustomPaper.com

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