I Began My Writing Career

When The Souls Rise Up In Glory, Yours Shall Not Be Shunned Nor Sunderered, But Shall Be The Prize Of The Gods' Gardens. Even Your Darkness Shall Be Treasured Then, And All Your Pain Made Holy.

I Am Not Schizoid. A Little Manic-depressive, Maybe." "'know Thyself.'" "we Try, Sir.

Cecil Flashed A Grin. "quite. Plus Your Rather Irritating Habit Of Treating Your Superior Officers As Your, Ah..." Cecil Paused, Apparently Groping Again For Just The Right Word. "equals?" Miles Hazarded. "cattle," Cecil Corrected Judiciously.

There Are Always Survivors At A Massacre. Among The Victors, If Nowhere Else.

No Battle Plan Survives First Contact With The Enemy. Not When The Enemy Is Me.