But this too is true: stories can save us.

But I do like churches. The way it feels inside. It feels good when you just sit there, like you're in a forest and everything's really quiet, expect there's still this sound you can't hear.

Let the story tell itself.

But in a story, which is a kind of dreaming, the dead sometimes smile and sit up and return to the world.

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

They carried all the emotional baggage of men who might die. Grief, terror, love, longing--these were intangibles, but the intangibles had their own mass and specific gravity, they had tangible weight. They carried shameful memories. They carried the common secret of cowardice.... Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to.

What happened, and what might have happened?