The Things They Carried

by Tim O'Brien

for all the ambiguities of Vietnam, all the mysteries and unknowns, there was at least the single abiding certainty that they would never be at a loss for things to carry.

Men killed, and died, because they were embarrassed not to.

They died so as not to die of embarrassment.

She didn’t understand how men could do those things. What things? he asked, and Martha said, The things men do. Then he nodded. It began to form. Oh, he said, those things.

Stories are for joining the past to the future.

Stories are for those late hours in the night when you can’t remember how you got from where you were to where you are.

Stories are for eternity, when memory is erased, when there is nothing to rem...

I tried to swallow it back. I tried to smile, except I was crying.

I would go to the war—I would kill and maybe die—because I was embarrassed not to.

he wanted to heat up the truth, to make it burn so hot that you would feel exactly what he felt.

This elaborate story, you can’t say, Hey, by the way, I don’t know the ending. I mean, you got certain obligations.”