If war was hell and only hell and there were no other colors in the palate I don't think people would continue to make war.

All the wrong people remember Vietnam. I think all the people who remember it should forget it, and all the people who forgot it should remember it.

Every time I had a vision of myself lying dead somewhere, it was up there, in the Highlands.

You can still see the shadow from when the Zeppelin floated over America; it took like Islam in the desert . . .

Vietnam was what we had instead of happy childhoods.

Talk about impersonating an identity, about locking into a role, about irony; I went to cover the war and the war covered me; an old story, unless of course you've never heard it.

We came to fear something more complicated than death, an annihilation less final but more complete, and we got out. Becausewe all knew that if you stayed too long you became one of those poor bastards who had to have a war on all the time, and where was that?