Lawrence was one of those beings whose pace of life was faster and more intense than what is normal. He was not in complete harmony with the normal. The fury of the Great War raised the pitch of life to the Lawrence standard. I have often wondered what would have happened to Lawrence if the Great War had continued for several more years. The earth trembled with the wrath of the warring nations. Everything was in motion. No one could say what was impossible. Lawrence might have realised Napoleon's young dream of conquering the East; he might have arrived in Constantinople in 1919 or 1920 with most of the tribes and races of Asia Minor and Arabia at his back. But the storm wind ceased as suddenly as it had arisen. The skies were clear; the bells of Armistice rang out. Mankind returned with indescribable relief to its long interrupted, fondly cherished ordinary life, and Lawrence was left once more moving alone on a different plane and at a different speed.