The Colors Of The Underwater Rock [are]

It Was His [gen. Douglas Macarthur's] Relationship With The Administration In Washington Which Became Poisoned By His Egomania. Link Upon Link The Bond Between Events On The Battlefield And His Own Ruin Was Forged, And, As Is Essential In Genuine Tragedy, The Gods Used The Victim Himself To Forge The Links.

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.

The Colors Of The Underwater Rock [are] As Pale And Delicate As Those In The Wardrobe Of An 18th-century Marchioness.

Men Do Not Fight For Flag Or Country, For The Marine Corps Or Glory Or Any Other Abstraction. They Fight For One Another. And If You Came Through This Ordeal, You Would Age With Dignity.

It Is True That Despite Occasional Gleams Of Churchillian Eloquence He [gen. Douglas Macarthur] Usually Spoke Poorly. He Was Far More Effective In Conversations A Deux. But Those Who Dismiss Him As Shallow Because His Rhetoric Was Fustian Err.