She worked her toes into the sand, feeling the tiny delicious pain of the friction of tiny chips of silicon against the tender flesh between her toes. That's life. It hurts, it's dirty, and it feels very, very good.

But I fear that I also underestimate the stupidity of the rest of mankind. Are we absolutely sure that we ought to win this war?

When you really know somebody you can’t hate them. Or maybe it’s just that you can’t really know them until you stop hating them.

The world is always a democracy in times of flux, and the man with the best voice will win.

So the whole war is because we can't talk to each other.

In the moment when I truly understand my enemy, understand him well enough to defeat him, then in that very moment I also love him. I think it’s impossible to really understand somebody, what they want, what they believe, and not love them the way they love themselves. And then, in that very moment when I love them.... I destroy them.

He is dangerous, he is beautiful, I could drown in his understanding.