Lampkin: Lee said you once gave him something before a mission, a lighter.
Adama: Belonged to my father. Foolish to think a hunk of metal could keep him safe.
Lampkin: And yet that's what we do isn't it. Hang onto hope in every hopelessly irrational way that we can, but not like those poor bastards, giving away their luck just when they need it most. Its like they've given up.
Adama: If you've never been in combat you have no idea what they are thinking.
Lampkin: I always imagined you a realist, Admiral. Not one to indulge a vain hope at the cost of lives, but then everyone has his limits. Sine qua non as they say.
Adama: Without which not.
Lampkin: Yes, those things we deem essential, without which we cannot bear living. Without which life in general loses its specific value. Becomes, abstract.
Adama: You may have a point counselor.
Lampkin: Well, while I'm on a roll, Tom Zarek may not be an ideal president, but we could do worse.
Adama: You're right, there are limits to my realism. Goodbye counselor.

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