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Mrs. Palmer's brook, The Mussel Bed, lay open face down on the counterpane-which ought to have told me something in itself, since Daffy had raged more than once that anyone who left a book in that position ought to be flayed, hanged, drawn and quartered, and dragged by four black horses to the four corners of the globe, their tattered remains roasted and the ashes cursed and scattered to the winds.

This woman's metabolism burned recognition in the same way that an automobile burns petrol.

"....and for all the ambiguities of Vietnam, all the mysteries and unknowns, there was at least the single abiding certainty that they would never be at a loss for things to carry."

As soon as Wayne found himself alone in the backseat of the Wraith, he did the only sensible thing: He tried to get the fuck out.

"Death was finally coming, to claim what it could not in the trenches."

"When you're a mile outside the limits of your competence, there is some comfort to be had in sounding like you know what you're doing."