I have seen lonely people of advancing age, yet as constant as angels, keeping faith to those they loved who fell in wars that current generations, not having known them, cannot even forget. The sight of them moving hesitantly among the tablets and crosses is enough to break your heart.

Justice came from a fight amid complexities, and required all the virtues in the world merely to be perceived.

We launch our souls from the cannons of art and discipline, and on any one night, hovering over the chimney tops of Europe, halfway to the stars, there are armies of brightly spinning spirits that have risen like fireworks, tethered to the souls of those men and women who, by reflection, mortification, and devotion, effortlessly outdazzle kings.

There is justice in the world, Peter Lake, but it cannot be had without mystery.

And if you were a spirit, and time did not bind you, and patience and love were all you knew, then there you would wait for someone to return, and the story to unfold.

The treasures of the earth were movement, courage, laughter and love.

La guerre, la guerre, everything la guerre. That's how I grew up. So for me, it's real. It's not something in the past.