I Find Nothing More Depressing

Chickenshit Can Be Recognized Instantly Because It Never Has Anything To Do With Winning The War.

Travel At Its Truest Is Thus An Ironic Experience.

The Past Is Not The Present: Pretending It Is Corrupts Art And Thus Both Rots The Mind And Shrivels The Imagination And Conscience.

And The Ideal Travel Writer Is Consumed Not Just With A Will To Know. He Is Also Moved By A Powerful Will To Teach.

Those Who Fought Know A Secret About Themselves, And It Is Not Very Nice.