The bones are hard and by themselves seem dead and stony, but by rooting into and pulling against the skeleton, the rest of the body carries out all the motions of life.

Life is waste when you left to see big dreams.

It was probably right after I made my comeback - after retiring post-2008 Olympics - when I finally felt more at ease with my body. Being away from the sport helped put things in perspective.

I remember friends from wars all but we forgot.  All of them distilled into each wound we caught.  Those wounds are all painful places where we fought.  Battles never left behind, ones we never sought.  What is it that we spent and what was it we bought?

Written By Frank Herbert

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