His [gen. Douglas Macarthur's] Own Heroes Were

His [gen. Douglas Macarthur's] Own Heroes Were Lincoln And Washington, And In Some Ways He Resembled Them. Like Them, He Was Slandered And Misunderstood.

I Try To Be As Ruthless As Possible. I Ask Myself Of Each Sentence, "is It Clear? Is It True? Does It Feel Good?" And If It's Not, Then I Rewrite It.

He [gen. Douglas Macarthur] Was A Great Thundering Paradox Of A Man, Noble And Ignoble, Inspiring And Outrageous, Arrogant And Shy, The Best Of Men And The Worst Of Men, The Most Protean, Most Ridiculous, And Most Sublime.

A Man's Task Is To Find Himself, And If He Fails In This, It Doesn't Much Matter What Else He Finds.

One Strange Feeling, Which I Remember Clearly, Was A Powerful Link With The Slain, Particularly Those That Had Fallen Within The Past Hour Or Two. There Was So Much Death Around That Life Seemed Almost Indecent. Some Men's Uniforms Were Soaked With Gobs Of Blood. The Ground Was Sodden With It. I Killed, Too.