We Falsely Interpret The World Around Us.

War Is Such A Peculiar Thing - Inaugurated By The Whims Of Few, Affecting The Fate Of Many. It Is Difficult, If Not Impossible, Thing To Understand, Yet We Feel Compelled To Describe It As Though It Has Meaning - Even Virtue. It Starts For Reasons Often Hopelessly Obscure, Meanders On, Then Stops

I've Had People Turn Me Down. Not All That Many, But Certainly It Happens.

The Fact That The World Is Utterly Insane Makes It Tolerable.

I Like To Think That One Of Things I've Done With Non-fiction Since The Very Beginning Is To Find New Ways Of Telling True Stories.

You Can Talk About A Caption Underneath A Photograph Being True Or False, Because There Is A Linguistic Element. You Can Claim That A Photograph Is A Picture Of A Horse Or A Cow, But It Is The Sentence That Expresses The Claim, Which Is True Or False, Not The Photograph.