“Would you like to talk?” “When I dream, I am talking.” “But to yourself.” “Who knows me better?” He laughed… — Philip José Farmer

I had the honor to serve at the siege of Arras. Where I received a thrust through the throat, the second of the serious wounds that convinced me, along with all else I had seen of wars miseries and horrors, that Mars was the stupidest of the gods.

Imagination was the great cozener of the past.

As for the Bible, it was a book, and all books told the truth in the sense that their authors believed they were writing a kind of truth.