This country was filled with violent children orphaned by war.

They were watching, out there past men's knowing, where stars are drowning and whales ferry their vast souls through the black and seamless sea.

Scars have the strange power to remind us that our past is real.

The way of the world is to bloom and to flower and die but in the affairs of men there is no waning and the noon of his expression signals the onset of night. His spirit is exhausted at the peak of its achievement. His meridian is at once his darkening and the evening of his day.

It just bothered me that you might think I'm somethin special. I aint.

I'd rather to make a good run as a bad stand.

There was nothin to set a man's mind at ease like wakin up in the morning and not havin to decide who you were.