The first day of the rest of my life.

This was like July 13th, 1943, the pivotal day of the Battle of the Kursk. We were like Alexander Vasilevsky, the Soviet general. If we attacked now, this minute, we had to keep on and on attacking until the enemy was run off his feet and the war was won. If we bogged down or paused for breath even for a second, we would be overrun again.

Reacher said, "So here's the thing Brett. Either you take your hand off my chest, or I'll take it off your wrist.

I have three desks. One empty for paperwork, one for the internet and email, and one for the writing computer.

I was in the machine. My whole life. Then the machine coughed and spat me out. So I thought, OK, if I'm out, I'm out. All the way out. I was a little angry and it was probably an immature reaction. But I got used to it.

What do I miss about the UK? Sadly, almost nothing. Maybe the midnight sun, in June in the north. That's all.

I'm not a vagrant... I'm a hobo. Big difference.