I was deposited on to the streets of New York, restored to the mainstream of life. I took several steps down the sidewalk when something happened. It was not guilt that froze me; I had taught myself never to feel guilt. It wasn’t the fear of death; I had taught myself to think of death as a friend. It was not the thought of being unloved that froze me; I had taught myself to do without love. What froze me was the fact that I had absolutely no reason to move in any direction.
I guess the moral here is: you must be careful what you pretend to be because in the end you are who you’re pretending to be.
It takes a heap of living to make a house a home.
I, Howard W. Campbell, Jr., am an American by birth, a Nazi by reputation, and a nationless person by inclination. I am awaiting a fair trial for my war crimes by the state of Israel.
Yes, I’ve changed. People should be changed by World Wars or what are World Wars for?
My dear sweet Eva, this is the only way I know how to make good the frightful wrong which has befallen us. It does not matter what lies ahead, for I have a full life behind me, all in those few sweet hours with you. I once told you that I would pledge my life for our nation of two, and reside there even in death, as surely as I reside in heaven when your arms are around me. Soon it will be time to keep that pledge, and I rejoice to think that earthly distractions will no longer intrude on my eternal devotion to you. From this moment forward our nation of two is the only country I will know.
They say that a hanging man hears glorious music. I wonder what it sounds like.
