She smiled. I think it's just the snow. I think it makes people stop and think. Bell nodded. I hope it comes a blizzard then.

Acts have their being in the witness. Without him who can speak of it? In the end one could even say that the act is nothing, the witness all.

War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner.

In history there are no control groups. There is no one to tell us what might have been. We weep over the might have been, but there is no might have been. There never was.

He thought that in the beauty of the world were hid a secret. He thought that the world’s heart beat at some terrible cost and that the world’s pain and its beauty moved in a relationship of diverging equity and that in this headlong deficit the blood of multitudes might ultimately be exacted for the vision of a single flower.

The things that I loved were very frail. Very fragile. I didn't know that. I thought they were indestructible. They weren't.

Maybe it's like Mac says. Ever man winds up with the horse that suits him.