Memory, like so much else, is unreliable. Not only for what it hides and what it alters, but also for what it reveals.

one does not remember one’s own pain. It is the suffering of others that undoes us

The cynic sees only cynicism, the depressive can taint creation with one glance

The human brain cannot encompass total absence. Like infinity, it is simply not something that the organ runs to. The space someone leaves must be filled, so we dream forever of those who are no longer here. Our minds make them live again.

Memory, like so much else, is unreliable. Not only for what it hides and what it alters, but also for what it reveals.

Betrayal clearly has its own reward: the small deep human satisfaction of having one up on someone else. It is the psychology of the mistress, and this regime used it as fuel.

Most people have no imagination. If they could imagine the sufferings of others, they would not make them suffer so.