“Little soldier, little insect
You know war it has no heart
It will kill you in the sunshine
Or happily in the the dark
Where kindness is a card game
Or a bent up cigarette
In the trenches, in the hard rain
With a bullet and a bet.”

“You need somebody to stand up for you. You're the little guy, you just don't realize it yet. The Commonwealth has all the aces, and you don't even know you're playing cards.”

“What turn of card, what trick of game
Undiced?
And you we valued still a little
More than Christ.”

“It's little I know what's in my heart,
What's in my mind it's little I know,
But there's that in me must up and start,
And it's little I care where my feet go.”

“You can party, but I better not catch you drunk. (Wulf)
(Chris rolled his eyes, then bent down to said to Cassandra’s stomach…)
Be wise, little guy, stay in there where Lord King Neurotic can’t kill all your fun. (Chris)”

“My God! The English language is a form of communication! Conversation isn’t just crossfire where you shoot and get shot at! Where you’ve got to duck for your life and aim to kill! Words aren’t only bombs and bullets — no, they’re little gifts, containing meanings!”

“What kind of life have you lived little one? Where fair has anything to do with it? Life and death just are. Fair has nothing to do with it.”

“If you know even as little history as I do, it is hard not to doubt the efficacy of modern war as a solution to any problem except that of retribution — the “justice” of exchanging one damage for another.”

“I could tell you it's the heart, but what is really killing him is loneliness. Memories are worse than bullets.”

“We all come up a little short and we go down hard.
These days I spend my time skipping through the dark.
Through the empires of dust, I chant your name.
I am the hunter of invisible game.”