I miss it: the smell of sand, sweat, and gunpowder, rings of salt from dried sweat on my pants’ legs, and around my waist just under where my armor sits.

An infantryman’s job is to deliver his enemies into the waiting hands of Death. It is Doc’s job to protect his brothers from Death, to knock him aside and say, “Not today.

Foreshadowing: Was my challenging Allah to unleash the full weight of his fury upon us, with dark clouds looming in the distance.

There is no point of adventure if you have known about everything.I wonder how God deals with the situation, considering the boredom.

The only point in creating something is to watch it die. Like a story that must come to a climax, what I have done will not be fulfilled until the end has arrived.

On our crowded planet there are no longer any internal affairs!

I've gone through a lot of stuff in my life so far. There are stories I haven't really been able to tell.

It is the folly of too many to mistake the echo of a London coffee-house for the voice of the kingdom.

Death is very mysterious to us. One moment someone is there with us, and the next moment they're not.

When you face a fork in the road, step on the exhilarator!

If I have to write by a certain time, I can pull through, but usually I just let stuff happen, hanging out with comic friends - or bringing a basic idea on stage and seeing if it goes anywhere.

When I'm actually assembling a scene, I assemble it as a silent movie. Even if it's a dialog scene, I lip read what people are saying.

Skating alone is an art. Doing it on a substance? I don't know. That's got to be tough.