This world… belongs to the strong, my friend! The ritual of our existence is based on the strong getting stronger by devouring the weak.

You had a choice: you could either strain and look at things that appeared in front of you in the fog, painful as it might be, or you could relax and lose yourself

You can't really be strong until you see a funny side to things.

I guess you can't live at full-on intensity forever. Lying on the bed of my cell in the dark, trembling, waiting for the soldiers to come in and shoot me - you just can't keep doing that. There's something in the human spirit that won't let you live that way.

Man, when you lose your laugh you lose your footing.

The frontiers we broke into in the '60s are still largely unexplored.