You can't just sit in a corner weeping or you'll die.

Five years of destruction and mayhem, lives lost everywhere, shortages of food and fuel and clothing - and the insane mind behind it just urges us all on and on to more destruction. And we all keep playing.

Fight with realistic hope, not to destroy all the world's wrong, but to renew its good.

She whispered, 'C'etait la Verite?' Was that Verity? Or perhaps she just meant, Was that the truth? Was it true? Did any of it really happen? Were the last three hours real? 'Yes,' I whispered back. 'Oui. C'etait la verite.

Hope is treacherous, but how can you live without it?

But I have told the truth. Isn't that ironic? They sent me because I am so good at telling lies. But I have told the truth.

I think as readers we put ourselves in the protagonist's place because we want to be like that person. That's why sometimes we don't like protagonists who aren't all that nice; we want to relate to the protagonist.