They spoke less and less between them until at last they were silent altogether as is often the way with travelers approaching the end of a journey.

Just take me with you. Please. I cant. Please, Papa. I cant. I cant hold my son dead in my arms. I thought I could but I cant.

He thought that in the history of the world it might even be that there was more punishment than crime but he took small comfort from it.

Hell ain't half full.

And perhaps beyond those shrouded swells another man did walk with another child on the dead gray sands. Slept but a sea apart on another beach among the bitter ashes of the world or stood in their rags lost to the same indifferent sun.

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

You can tell it any way you want but that's the way it is. I should of done it and I didnt. And some part of me has never quit wishin I could go back. And I cant. I didn't know you could steal your own life. And I didnt know that it would bring you no more benefit than about anything else you might steal. I thinkI done the best with itI knew how but itstill wasntmine. It neverhas been.