Life is a memory, and then it is nothing.

You go back home and everything you wished was different is still the same and everything you wished was the same is different.

Nor does God whisper through the trees. His voice is not to be mistaken. When men hear it they fall to their knees and their souls are riven and they cry out to Him and there is no fear but only wildness of heart that springs from such longing.

Suppose you were the last one left? Suppose you did that to yourself?

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

If a dream can tell the future it can also thwart that future. For God will not permit that we shall know what is to come. He is bound to no one that the world unfold just so upon its course and those who by some sorcery or by some dream might come to pierce the veil that lies so darkly over all that is before them may serve by just that vision to cause that God should wrench the world from its heading and set it upon another course altogether and then where stands the sorcerer? Where the dreamer and his dream?

There is no greater monster than reason.