“There’s a narrow line between love and hate sometimes, you know. And it can be crossed unwittingly.”

“Courage is not measured byMarching bands and banners in the wind.If you have not walkedThe bloody lines and seen the faces,You have no right to describe it so.We die here to keep you safe at home,And what we sufferPray you may never know.”

“I decided to become a policeman to speak for the dead. They have no one else, you see. Somewhere there’s always proof of what happened, some piece of evidence that will obtain a conviction. It’s important for the guilty to be brought to justice, I think. Without justice, there’s chaos.”

“No one ever stepped forward to protect me, Inspector. I wonder why I should feel any driving sense of duty to protect anyone else. Let me tell you something about love. It can be very cruel and very greedy. I’ve had done with it. And that has given me a freedom that I cherish.”

“There’s a beauty in birds on the wing,That stirs the heart and makes earthbound creaturesLong for flight, but the larks above the battlefieldAre silenced by the sounds of war.I have watched birds out at sea,Catching the wind,And longed to follow them,To some safe place far from here.”

“But what kind of love? It had so many faces, so many names. Jealousy wove a thread around it, and envy, and fear. People died for love–and killed for it. And yet in itself it was indefinable, it wore whatever passions people brought to it, like a mountebank, with no reality of its own.”

“What of the hundreds of faceless men on the streets looking for work, trying to pick up the threads of family life, hoping that the dying had made a better Britain, and finding they were lost in it. Faceless men…People stepped around them now, ignored the brave boy who’d marched away to glory and now begged on the street because a one-armed man couldn’t work. He thought sometimes, in the dark corners of his mind, that the dead were the lucky ones. They hadn’t been disillusioned.”