It was always himself that the coward abandoned first. After this all other betrayals came easily.

Maybe. Anyway, some men get what they want. No man. Or perhaps only briefly so as to lose it. Or perhaps only to prove to the dreamer that the world of his longing made real is no longer that world at all.

People don't pay attention. And then one day there's an accounting. And after that, nothing is the same.

Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.

I always thought when I got older that God would sort of come into my life in some way. He didn't. I don't blame him. If I was him I'd have the same opinion about me that he does.

I can normally tell how intelligent a man is by how stupid he thinks I am.

Men of God and men of war have strange affinities.