It reminded me of talking, how what is said is never quite what was thought, and what is heard is never quite what was said. It wasn’t much in the way of comfort, but everything has a little failure in it, and we still make do somehow.

There is a sharp distinction between what is remembered, what is told and what is true.

One of the things my service in Iraq did give me was this freedom from fear of failure or any kind of expectations that I had to take a standard path.

But I remember being told that the truth does not depend on being believed.

Freedom is not the same as lack of accountability.

The war came to me in my dreams and showed me its sole purpose: to go on, only to go on.

I know that the writers I read and admire all have an influence on my work, but trying to determine to what degree any particular piece of input changes the way I think about writing seems counterproductive.