Any Act Can Be A Prayer, If

Every Man Should Lose A Battle In His Youth, So He Does Not Lose A War When He Is Old.

From Where I Sit, Battles Are Hard. I’ve Written My Share. Sometimes I Employ The Private’s Viewpoint, Very Up Close And Personal, Dropping The Reader Right Into The Middle Of The Carnage. That’s Vivid And Visceral, But Of Necessity Chaotic, And It Is Easy To Lose All Sense Of The Battle As A Whole. Sometimes I Go With The General’s Point Of View Instead, Looking Down From On High, Seeing Lines And Flanks And Reserves. That Gives A Great Sense Of The Tactics, Of How The Battle Is Won Or Lost, But Can Easily Slide Into Abstraction.

Nobody Likes Cravens,” He Said Uncomfortably. “i Wish We Hadn’t Helped Him. What If They Think We’re Craven Too?” "you're Too Stupid To Be Craven,” Pyp Told Him. “i Am Not,” Grenn Said. “yes You Are. If A Bear Attacked You In The Woods, You’d Be Too Stupid To Run Away.” “i Would Not,” Grenn Insisted. “i’d Run Away Faster Than You.” He Stopped Suddenly, Scowling When He Saw Pyp’s Grin And Realized What He’d Just Said.

When You Have Known The Kiss Of A Flaying Knife, A Laugh Loses All Its Power To Hurt You.

Drowning Was Bad Enough. But Drowning Sad And Sober, That's Too Cruel.