And as a writer now, I want to save Linda's life. Not her body--her life.

Did I choose this life of illusion? Don't be mad. My bed was made, I just lied in it.

Everything was such a damned nice idea when it was an idea.

But this too is true: stories can save us.

The thing about a story is that you dream it as you tell it, hoping that others might then dream along with you, and in this way memory and imagination and language combine to make spirits in the head. There is the illusion of aliveness.

They carried all they could bear, and then some, including a silent awe for the terrible power of the things they carried.

War is hell, but that's not the half of it, because war is also mystery and terror and adventure and courage and discovery and holiness and pity and despair and longing and love. War is nasty; war is fun. War is thrilling; war is drudgery. War makes you a man; war makes you dead.