The closest bonds we will ever know are bonds of grief. The deepest community one of sorrow.

Where men can't live gods fare no better.

There's a difference between quittin and knowin when you're beat.

The man smiled at him a sly smile. As if they knew a secret between them, these two. Something of age and youth and their claims and the justice of those claims. And of their claims upon them. The world past, the world to come. Their common transciencies. Above all a knowing deep in the bone that beauty and loss are one.

There is no later. This is later.

You either stick or you quit. And I wouldnt quit you I dont care what you done.

... a man leaves much when he leaves his own country.