Rich men have dreams. Poor men die to make them come true.

There were dreams once upon a time, dreams now all but forgotten. On sad days I dust them off and fondle them nostalgically, with a patronizing wonder at the naivete of the youth who dreamed them.

Religion is something that gets hammered in early, and never really goes away. And has powers to move which go beyond anything rational.

Soldiers live. He dies and not you, and you feel guilty, because you're glad he died, and not you. Soldiers live, and wonder why.

A world ought to have a few genuine good guys, and not just a spectrum of people running from bad to worse.

The only characters I've made to resemble real people have been grotesques.

Where there is no waste, there is no want.