Now that I've seen her, I can't stop seeing her.

Here's what I think," I say and my voice is stronger and thoughts are coming, thoughts that trickle into my noise like whispers of truth. "I think maybe everybody falls," I say. "I think maybe we all do. And I don't think that's the asking." I pull on her arms gently to make sure she's listening. "I think the asking is whether we get back up again.

This is what war does. Right here, in my hands. This is war.

A book cannot apologize for what people may think it should be. It has to be authoritative.

Midnight passes and I'm twenty-five days and a million years from becoming a man.

Noise ain't Truth, Noise is what men want to be true, and there's a difference twixt those two things so big that it could ruddy well kill you if you don't watch out.

Why can't we learn to live with how we are? And whatever anybody chooses is okay by the rest of us?