this is from chapter 7
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Paul wishes he were a child an could be comforted by his mother.
Ah! Mother, Mother! You still think I am a child--why can I not put my head in your lap and weep? Why have I always to be strong and self-controlled? I would like to weep and be comforted too, indeed I am little more than a child; in the wardrobe still hang short, boy's trousers--it is such a little time ago, why is it over?
All Quiet on the Western Front