Usually, you don't know where a book comes from ... it's just there, some kind of an itch that you can't quite scratch.

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

I have no enemies. I dont permit such a thing.

It makes no difference what men think of war, said the judge. War endures. As well ask men what they think of stone. War was always here. Before man was, war waited for him. The ultimate trade awaiting its ultimate practitioner. That is the way it was and will be. That way and not some other way.

Listen to me, he said, when your dreams are of some world that never was or some world that never will be, and you're happy again, then you'll have given up. Do you understand? And you can't give up, I won't let you.

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.

Men of God and men of war have strange affinities.