...his love was too much for him, he felt paralyzed, he wanted to sleep inside her lungs and breathe her blood and be smothered.

All that peace, man, if felt so good it hurt. I want to hurt it back.

...you find yourself studying the fine colors on the river, you feel wonder and awe at the setting of the sun, and you are filled with a hard, aching love for how the world could be and always should be, but now is not.

Let the story tell itself.

you can tell a true war story if it embarrasses you. If you don't care for obscenity, you don't care for the truth; if you don't care for the truth, watch how you vote. Send guys to war, they come home talking dirty.

Writing doesn’t get easier with experience. The more you know, the harder it is to write.

The world shrieks and sinks talons into our hearts. This we call memory.