I nursed men back to sanity who were driven to despair. I solicited clothes for the ragged children, for the desperate mothers. I laid out the dead, the martyrs of the strike.
“There exist only three beings worthy of respect: the priest, the soldier, the poet. To know, to kill, to create.”
“Two women? God, man. Well, I'm still living. So clearly I must've gotten away with it, when I did do it. But I don't think it's time to blow my cover now.”