Wise Words Are Like Arrows

I Mean The Only Thing Us Dead Soldiers Got In Common Is That None Of Us Was Good Enough Or Lucky Enough To Survive The Fight. We're A Host Of Failures.

I Hear Seven Cities Natives Grow Fruit Just So They Can Eat The Larvae In Them.

He Was A Man Who Would Never Ask For Sympathy. He Was A Man Who Sought Only To Do What Was Right. Such People Appear In The World, Every World, Now And Then, Like A Single Refrain Of Some Blessed Song, A Fragment Caught On The Spur Of An Otherwise Raging Cacophony. Imagine A World Without Such Souls. Yes, It Should Have Been Harder To Do.

Such Is The Vastness Of His Genius That He Can Outwit Even Himself.

I Warn You All, Hatred Is Finding Fertile Soil Within Me. And In Your Compassion, In Your Every Good Intention, You Nurture It.