Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to.

If you don't care for obscenity, you don't care for the truth.

It's not just the embarrassment of tears. That's part of it, no doubt, but what embarrasses me much more, and always will, is the paralysis that took my heart. A moral freeze: I couldn't decide, I couldn't act, I couldn't comport myself with even a pretense of modest human dignity.

The bad stuff never stops happening: it lives in its own dimension, replaying itself over and over.

When your afraid,reallyafraid, you see things you never saw before, you pay attention to the world.

Once someone's dead you can't make them undead.

I want you to feel what I felt. I want you to know why story-truth is truer sometimes than happening-truth.