For a while, I thought I was going mad. At last, I became reconciled to my despair. The medications helped, too, I thought, sir.

Hi, I'm a hero, but I can't tell you why. It's classified.

When the souls rise up in glory, yours shall not be shunned nor sunderered, but shall be the prize of the gods' gardens. Even your darkness shall be treasured then, and all your pain made holy.

How could you be a Great Man if history brought you no Great Events, or brought you to them at the wrong time, too young, too old?

I miss it every minute, and I have no wish at all to go back.

But pain seems to me an insufficient reason not to embrace life. Being dead is quite painless. Pain, like time, is going to come on regardless. Question is, what glorious moments can you win from life in addition to the pain?

The will to be stupid is a very powerful force, but there are always alternatives.