you're never more alive than when you're almost dead.

I guess we're really brothers, aren't we? Don't know what that means, except it means that some of the same things we remember.

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

With a hangover and with fear, it is difficult to put a helmet on your head.

A true war story is never moral.

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

What sticks to memory, often, are those odd little fragments that have no beginning and no end.