Liturgical prose
"Our being, almost utterly carried away by the fury of the storm, streams back through our hands from thee, and we, thy redeemed ones, bury ourselves in thee, and through the long minutes in a mute agony of hope bite into thee with our lips!"
"The evening benediction begins."
Apostrophe
". . . dark, musty platoon huts, with the iron bedsteads, the chequered bedding, the lockers and the stools! Even you can become the object of desire."
"Ah! Mother, Mother! You still think I am a child — why can I not put my head in your lap and weep?"
Allusion
"The gun emplacements are camouflaged with bushes against aerial observation, and look like a kind of military Feast of the Tabernacles."
"The guns and the wagons float past the dim background of the moonlit landscape, the riders in their steel helmets resemble knights of a forgotten time; it is strangely beautiful and arresting."
Hyperbole
"They are more to me than life, these voices, they are more than motherliness and more than fear; they are the strongest, most comforting things there is anywhere: they are the voices of my comrades."
"In the evening we are hauled on to the chopping-block."
