“I believe that just because something didn’t go the way you planned it once, it’s no reason not to try again.”

“Of course there’s a risk that that could happen, but what is the alternative? To never allow myself to get close to anyone ever again? Never know the joy of loving someone for fear that it could end up in tears? My heart might stay safe, but it wouldn’t be much of a life.”

“Embrace the things you love because once it gone, it's gone.”

“When I went into the Army, I made up my mind that I was putting myself at the Army's disposal. I believe in the war. That doesn't mean I believe in the Army. I don't believe in any army. You don't expect justice out of an army, if you're a sensible, grown-up human being, you only expect victory. And if it comes to that, our Army is probably the most just one that ever existed. . . . I expected the Army to be corrupt, inefficient, cruel, wasteful, and it turned out to be all those things, just like all armies, only much less so than I thought before I got into it. It is much less corrupt, for example, than the German Army. Good for us. The victory we win will not be as good as it might be, if it were a different kind of army, but it will be the best kind of victory we can expect in this day and age, and I'm thankful for it.”

“You must not suppose, because I am a man of letters, that I never tried to earn an honest living.”

“Having him hold me like that was the only good thing out of it all, having him hold me and being right there with me. I just wished he could have held me harder and tighter and made the bad feelings, the dirty feelings, go away. But I don't think you can hold a person that tight, so tight that she's in your heart, way inside your skin, being cleaned and warmed by your blood. (11)”

“She nestled me in her arms, keeping me safe, smoothing my black curls with her caress, whispering how beautiful I was getting. The thing that cracked when she died was mended, and we were fine and whole again. And because we were fine and whole, I was safe. She would tell me the old stories, but I could never remember them later except for this ending from my favorite one: The wind blew wild and the wind blew free, but the bear cub was safe in the mouth of the mama-mama bear. That's the way I felt when Mama held me - safe in the mouth of the mama-mama bear. If I had trouble sleeping at night, I remembered the feel of the story - safe in the mouth - and I felt my mother in her pretty yellow dress, and the yellow rose pinned in her dark hair, and her arms around me. Then I could relax and know I was fine. So even though I knew Mama died, I also knew in a way I never tried to explain to anybody that she didn't die, that she couldn't have, not completely, since she came to me with those moonbeam visits. (5)”