There was madness in any direction, at any hour. If not across the Bay, then up the Golden Gate or down 101 to Los Altos or La Honda. . . . You could strike sparks anywhere. There was a fantastic universal sense that whatever we were doing was right, that we were winning. . . .
And that, I think, was the handle — that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave. . . .

And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.

You can succeed at almost anything for which you have unbridled enthusiasm.

You know, a long time ago being crazy meant something. Nowadays, everybody's crazy.

Of course, when you are winning a war almost everything that happens can be claimed to be right and wise.

All humanity could share a common insanity and be immersed in a common illusion while living in a common chaos.

"All people are insane," he said. "They will do anything at any time, and God help anybody who looks for reasons."

We emerged victorious in every battle with the enemy at all times and in all places, because we were full of confidence in victory, and maintained an indefatigable fighting and self-sacrificing spirit without losing our composure and hope, even in confrontation with an enemy force, which was dozens of times stronger in number.

Go off in all directions at once; you're bound to get somewhere somehow.

There can be no doubt that if we had been victorious on the Vistula, the revolutionary fires would have reached the entire continent.

Maybe it meant something. Maybe not, in the long run… but no explanation, no mix of words or music or memories can touch that sense of knowing that you were there and alive in that corner of time and the world. Whatever it meant.…And that, I think, was the handle — that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn't need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting — on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave.

When it came to the dark fuckery of the human heart, there seemed to be no limit.

The morale of the troops taking part was astonishingly high at the start of the offensive. They really believed victory was possible - unlike the higher commanders, who knew the facts.

Downtown. Lights on buildings and everything that makes you wonder. And in that moment, I swear we were infinite.