They're as sore as the Arabs are themselves." "Then you're on the wrong side, and you know it ?" I suggested.
"The meat," he said, "is in the middle of the sandwich.

In a small way you might say I'm a doctor, staying on after a riot to stitch up cuts.

The quarrel was none of my making, although I was in it and did what I could to help against the Turks.

Like everybody else who knows them, I admire the Turks and hate what they stand for--hate their cruelty.

I was with Lawrence across the Jordan--went all the way to Damascus with him--saw the war through to a finish--in case you choose to call it finished." Vainly I tried to pin him down to personal reminiscences.