I Am Tired. My Arm Aches. My

What Makes Life Worth Living? Better Surely, To Yield To The Stain Of Suicide Blood In Me And Seek Forgetfulness In The Embrace Of Cold Dark Death.

There Are Always Greater Fish Than You Have Caught, Always The Lure Of Greater Task And Achievement, Always The Inspiration To Seek, To Endure, To Find.

Men May Rise On Stepping Stones Of Their Dead Selves To Higher Things.

I Need This Wild Life, This Freedom.

It Was A Decent New Year's, But It Took A Million Officers To Make It So.