Few of us will forget the wail of mingled grief, rage and horror which rose from the camp when the Indians returned to it and recognized their slaughtered warriors, women, and children.
“I want to be singing to everybody, and I want everybody to think that I'm singing to them. Guys, girls and everyone in between.”
“Maybe there is no actual place called hell. Maybe hell is just having to listen to our grandparents breathe through their noses when they're eating sandwiches.”