Don't think you haven't lived long enough to have a story to tell.

Flakes of white fall thru the trees and onto the road, catching on our clothes and hair. It's a silent fall and it's weird how it makes everything else seem quiet, too, like it's trying to tell you a secret, a terrible, terrible secret.

The only place you belong is the place you can never go back. And so yer always alone, forever and always.

Stories are the wildest things of all. Stories chase and bite and hunt.

So who are you then, Todd Hewitt?" he says. "What makes you so special?" Now that, I think, is a very good asking.

A book… it’s a world all on its own too. A world made of words, where you live for a while.

War makes monsters of men, you once said to me Todd. Well, so does too much knowledge. Too much knowledge of your fellow man, too much knowledge of his weakness, his pathetic greed and vanity, and how laughably easy it is to control him.