There Aren't Any Answers, Only Choices

Deftly Whipping A Small Tuning Fork From His Pocket, He Struck It Smartly Against A Pillar And Held It Next To Jamie's Left Ear. Jamie Rolled His Eyes Heavenward, But Shrugged And Obligingly Sang A Note. The Little Man Jerked Back As Though He'd Been Shot.

He Shook His Head, Absorbed In One Of His Feats Of Memory, Those Brief Periods Of Scholastic Rapture Where He Lost Touch With The World Around Him, Absorbed Completely In Conjuring Up Knowledge From All Its Sources.

And If Your Life Is A Suitable Exchange For My Honor, Why Is My Honor Not A Suitable Exchange For Your Life?

We Have Nothing Now Between Us, Save - Respect, Perhaps. And I Think That Respect Has Maybe Room For Secrets, But Not For Lies.

One Dictum I Had Learned On The Battlefields Of France In A Far Distant War: You Cannot Save The World, But You Might Save The Man In Front Of You, If You Work Fast Enough.