On this road there are no godspoke men. They are gone and I am left and they have taken with them the world.

It's not about knowing who you are. It's about thinkin you got there without takin anything with you. Your notions about startin over. or anybody's. You dont start over. That's what it's about. Every step you take is forever. You can't make it go away. None of it.

What would you do if I died? If you died I would want to die too. So you could be with me? Yes. So I could be with you. Okay.

Hell ain't half full.

Men speak of blind destiny, a thing without scheme or purpose. But what sort of destiny is that? Each act in this world from which there can be no turning back has before it another, and it another yet. In a vast endless net. Men imagine that the choices before them are theirs to make. But we are free to act only upon what is given. Choice is lost in the maze of generations and each act in the maze is itself an enslavement for it voids every alternative and binds one ever more tightly into the constraints that make a life.

Maybe it's like Mac says. Ever man winds up with the horse that suits him.

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