“Was he a brother?” he asked. “A friend,” was my reply, hating how thin the word friend could sound when trying to cover something far more. “It is not something I speak of.” “I don’t speak of most things, but I have found that war should be spoken of. I even say it must be.” “Why?” I challenged. “When it is so painful? So cruel?” “So we may end it.” “Does speaking end anything?”
