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I'd say my mother made more of a difference to me than anyone else did. I know that's a conventional and perhaps mundane answer, but my family was blown apart at the start of World War II.

World War I broke out largely because of an arms race, and World War II because of the lack of an arms race.

There was a lot of brokenness in my family. Let's just say that I was raised by my grandparents.

I was just a very torn child, very wounded in so many areas, with no family support. I happened to the be the fifth child of my family. So everybody was already grown and had left home already.

The World War I, I'm a child of World War I. And I really know about the children of war. Because both my parents were both badly damaged by the war. My father, physically, and both mentally and emotionally. So, I know exactly what it's like to be brought up in an atmosphere of a continual harping on the war.

My family has served the country in almost every major war since the Civil War.

I either had to concentrate on fighting, or I had to help my family. I chose my family. I love my mom; I love my family.

When my mother died, I fell apart. My father wanted to control me. As a consequence, I ran away to America.

I burned down our house, and that put a strain on our family.

My father and brothers were in the military.