The problem with surviving was that you ended up with the ghosts of everyone you’d ever left behind riding on your shoulders.

Suicide is not something I owe you or yours.

But then, that was the problem with pretty toy stitches. When real life got hold of them, they always tore out.

Some things, it was better not to think about. It just made you mad and angry.

Never beg for mercy. Accept that you have failed. Begging is for dogs and humans.

They’d blame a castoff just for breathing. You could be good as gold and they’d still blame you.

You couldn’t live close to war and not have it grab you eventually.

Her face was smeared with mud and blood and ash. Just another bit of debris in the wreckage of war.

Maggot twitch, some people called it. If you’d seen much of the war, you had it. Some more. Some less. But everybody had it.

A gamble. Everything was a damn gamble. Betting against luck and the Fates, again and again, and again. She kept walking, waiting for the bullet.

Tool wondered if the girl was going mad. It happened to people. Sometimes they saw too much and their minds went away. They lost the will to survive. They curled up and surrendered to madness.

Failure is just another way to learn how to do something right.

You don't get it boy... this isn't a mudhole... its an operating table. (KRAKKKKK) And I'm the surgeon.

you're entirly bonkers but I'll tell you a secret all the best people are

Among physicists, I'm respected I hope.

It is in the treatment of trifles that a person shows what they are.

Either this is logical and true, or else the principles on which economic science is based are invalid.

Where is the yesterday that worried us so.

Goes the song, "we change, we change." But the music is still mine.

There aren't any hard women, only soft men.

Our focus must be on what we need to change about ourselves-our attitudes, our words, our actions-even if our circumstances and the other people in our lives remain the same.