“I thought this was the safest place to hammer out an agreement with Piscary,” I said meekly. “My office?” he barked. “Well…” I hedged. “Maybe a conference room?”

“My Mother always wants to know why I don't just take things down, but I like it the way it is - like layers of sediment in an archaeology dig, or overlapping scales of armor. My room is the safest place I know.”

“(Frances has gotten out of bed again and come to her parents' room...)'How can the wind have a job?' asked Frances. 'Everybody has a job,' said Father.'I have to go to my office every morning at nine o'clock. That is my job. You have to go to sleep so you can be wide awake for school tomorrow. That is your job.'Frances said, 'I know, but...'Father said, 'I have not finished. If the wind does not blow the curtains, he will be out of a job. If I do not go to the office, I will be out of a job. And if you do not go to sleep now, do you know what will happen to you?''I will be out of a job?' said Frances.'No,' said Father.'I will get a spanking?' said Frances.'Right!' said Father.'Good night!' said Frances, and she went back to her room.”

“I walked out of his room sure I'd said the right thing maybe not as a father but as a Dad. I'd said the right thing, for once in my life.”

“I was mentally prepared to sustain serious injury or death, but before that day I never contemplated the reality of being captured by the enemy. I thought, "This is going to be hard on the folks," only to realize that I actually verbalized my thought out loud.As the English-speaking officer and I walked side by side, he said, "War is terrible, isn't it?”

“Well, that's certainly... adequate," I told him, burying my face in his chest. I knew immediately I'd picked the wrong word."Adequate?" He took my hand, placed it on the part in question. It immediately began to stir. He moved my hand on it, and I obligingly circled it with my fingers. "This is adequate?""Maybe I should have said it's a gracious plenty?""A gracious plenty. I like that," he said.”