Dead Men Tell No Tales, Mary.

If There’s One Thing That Makes A Man Sick, It’s To Have His Ale Poured Out Of An Ugly Hand.

I Suppose Sooner Or Later In The Life Of Everyone Comes A Moment Of Trial. We All Of Us Have Our Particular Devil Who Rides Us And Torments Us, And We Must Give Battle In The End.

How Simple Life Becomes When Things Like Mirrors Are Forgotten.

Dead Men Tell No Tales, Mary.

[referring To The Birds:] Nat Listened To The Tearing Sound Of Splintering Wood, And Wondered How Many Million Years Of Memory Were Stored In Those Little Brains, Behind The Stabbing Beaks, The Piercing Eyes, Now Giving Them This Instinct To Destroy Mankind With All The Deft Precision Of Machines.