The General's Daughter

Basically, all women are nurturers and healers, and all men are mental patients to varying degrees.

I enjoy the presence of a woman in the house for brief periods of time. They fall into two categories: the organizers and the slobs. There’s probably a third category—the naggers, who try to get you to do things, but I’ve never run into one of those. Oddly, I have no preference regarding oganizers or slobs, as long as they don’t try to pick my clothes for me. Basically, all women are nurturers and healers, and all men are mental patients to varying degrees. It works fine if people stick to their fated roles. But nobody does.

Panic---a deep abiding, free-floating anxiety, often without any reason or logical basis.

Somehow, amid all the sophistication and diversions of this world, we forgot the basics: take care of business at home first, and never betray your blood.

The American dream was not supposed to look like this, and when men went off the war, too often other men came in the night to the bedroom at the back of the long, narrow trailers. In fact, I had lived there and had gone off to war, and someone took of my place in the bed and took of my young wife. But that was few wars ago, and so much has happened since , that the only lingering bitterness left is that the bastard also took my dog.

It’s a problem, you know, Paul, dealing with stupid people. You project your own intelligence and rationality onto a person who is a complete idiot, and he lets you down.

I know who didn’t kill her.” “Don’t

Well, the more I learn, the less motivation I can find for Colonel Moore to kill his subordinate. On the other hand, I see that other people could have strong motives.” Kent looked exasperated, and he said, “Paul, I understand what you’re doing up to a point, and so will everyone else. But you’ve passed that point, and if you don’t arrest Moore now and he turns out to be the killer, and the FBI arrests him, then you look really stupid.” “I know that, Bill. But if I do arrest him and he’s not the killer, I look worse than stupid.” “Show some balls.” “Fuck you.” “Hey! You’re speaking to a superior officer.” “Fuck you, sir.

Psychology is a soft weapon but you can take out more enemy battalions with leaflets and radio broadcasts than with high explosives.