I dig my fox-holes down to a cowardly depth. Am scared stiff constantly and can’t remember ever having been a civilian.
Marilyn Monroe in Korea, February 1954
I sometimes think drivers don’t know what grass is, or flowers, because they never see them slowly. If you showed a driver a green blur, Oh yes! he’d say, that’s grass! A pink blur! That’s a rose garden! White blurs are houses. Brown blurs are cows. My uncle drove slowly on a highway once. He drove forty miles per hour and they jailed him for two days. Isn’t that funny, and sad, too?