It is one thing to say you're at war with this whole world and stick your chest out believing it, but when the world shows up with it's crushing numbers and its predatory knowledge, it is another thing completely.

Sometimes heroism is nothing more than patience, curiosity, and a refusal to panic.

I remember it as October days are always remembered, cloudless, maple-flavored, the air gold and so clean it quivers.

Is there a single person on whom I can press belief? No sir. All I can do is say, Here's how it went. Here's what I saw. I've been there and am going back. Make of it what you will.

We and the world, my children, will always be at war. Retreat is impossible. Arm yourselves.

Of all facial expressions, which is the worst to have aimed at you? Wouldn't you agree it's disgust?

Fresh peach pie can lift a bullying reprobate into apologetic courtesy; I have watched it happen.