I've worked hard to remember it...The problem is I'm not sure what's real memory and what's my brain filling in details, like a guy whose heart stops and he thinks he sees a bright light. Except I'm sure of my bright light.

A pen is neither good nor bad. It’s what you do with it that makes it a weapon of war or a tool of peace.Likewise, love is neither good nor bad. It’s what you do with it that makes it the ultimate punishment or the greatest reward.

... people didn't fight for grand causes or great purposes, but for the closest and most personal of reasons. They might say the fought for high ideals, but in practice they fought for the comrades beside them and their loved ones at home.

It screamed downward, splitting air and sky without effort. A target expanded in size, brought into focus by time and velocity. There was a moment before impact that was the last instant of things as they were. Then the visible world exploded.

Peace surfaced here. Hard to imagine a person finding peace through war, but no one finds peace in war—peace finds you. It crawls into your sleeping bag and helps you fall asleep, nudges your arm, tells you to turn over, think about home.

Next day at the review the Tsar asked Prince Andrey where he desired to serve; and Bolkonsky ruined his chances for ever in the court world by asking to be sent to the front, instead of begging for a post in attendance on the Tsar's person.

15. Hence a wise general makes a point of foraging on the enemy. One cartload of the enemy's provisions is equivalent to twenty of one's own, and likewise a single picul of his provender is equivalent to twenty from one's own store.

A soldier's life revolves around his mail. Like many others, I've been able to follow my kid's progress from the day he was born until now he is able to walk and talk a little, and although I have never seen him I know him very well.

Puss hopped down from the couch and rummaged in Mark’s closet until he found a black leather belt. This he looped along his shoulder, around his waist, and then clasped together. “I’m off to make war, so that you may have love.

How the soldiers had lain, slain and forgotten, no marker for their demise, no songs to their name, not even mourners who knew them. That is the end of battle, and once a man has tasted it, how hesitant he is to lift another spoonful to his lips.

No one has proved to me that my husband isn’t still alive somewhere in Southeast Asia. So, as far as I’m concerned, if even one man is alive, we own him more than this – than presuming him dead for the sake of tidying paperwork.

Indeed," Fowler answered. He turned and looked at Tony critically. "I say, old man, but you're not much older than that German kid."Yeah," Tony grinned. "But I'm from Texas and meaner than a junkyard bulldog. Makes a difference, you know.

A good roast of sun, it slows you, lets you relax–and out here if there's anything wrong, you can see it coming with bags of time to do what's next. This is the place and the weather for peace, for the cultivation of a friendly mind.

Modern warfare wasn't supposed to have this much blood in it. The weapons were supposed to cook everyone neatly, like eggs in their shells. (Mark Vorkosigan's first experience with warfare, on seeing Miles Vorkosigan splattered before him)

لم أكن أهرب من الحرب ، بل من فيروز وأغانيها