I was remembering the things we had done together, the times we had had. It would have been pleasant to preserve that comradeship in the days that came after. Pleasant, but alas, impossible. That which had brought us together had gone, and now our paths diverged, according to our natures and needs. We would meet again, from time to time, but always a little more as strangers; until perhaps at last, as old men with only memories left, we could sit together and try to share them.

The secret of success in battle lies often not so much in the use of one's own strength but in the exploitation of the other side's weaknesses.

And though I remember her name I cannot recall her face. All things pass.

Some people are oil and water.

There is always something to lose. But maybe more to gain.

We had been friends. We could not become strangers. It left only one thing: we must be enemies.

What tricks the mind is what the mind is glad to be tricked by.