To feel that life is meaningless unless “I” can be permanent is like having fallen desperately in love with an inch.

We have a strange anxiety in us; that if we don't interfere then it won't happen. Now that's the root of an enormous amount of trouble.

I owe my solitude to other people.

Make a spurious division of one process into two, forget that you have done it, and then puzzle for centuries as to how the two get together.

Many people think that the Bible is the authentic word of God and they worship the Bible, making it an idol.

We live in a culture where it has been rubbed into us in every conceivable way that to die is a terrible thing. And that is a tremendous disease from which our culture in particular suffers.

Everything in the world is gloriously meaningless.