One of my absolute favourite books, Thoughts of a Philosophical Fighter Pilot is a collection of James Stockdale's speeches over the years. His wisdom is beyond comprehension and I am always in awe of this tremendously brilliant man.
A passage from an address given in May of 1988 in Philadelphia entitled My Kind of Guys holds a particularly moving passage:
But when you get old political prisoners alone, you don't hear a word about food, ventilation, warmth, and such trivia. They exchange tales of quite a different nature-of nervous exhaustion, uncontrollable sobbing in solitude, the wages of fear, the horror of brooding guilt, alone for months, bearing wear and tear on nervous systems while being stalked, booby-trapped, blindsided, and all the while knowing that once you lose your precious grip on your self-esteem and personal honor, you are lost.
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