For a long time I used to think this a silly, straw-splitting distinction: how could you hate what a man did and not hate the man? But years later it occurred to me that there was one man to whom I had been doing this all my life - namely myself.

Besides being complicated, reality, in my experience, is usually odd. It is not neat, not obvious, not what you expect.

Falling in love is something that happens to us, being is love is something we do. No passion is self preservatory.

We all want progress, but if you're on the wrong road, progress means doing an about-turn and walking back to the right road; in that case, the man who turns back soonest is the most progressive.

I felt in my bones that this universe does not explain itself.

The discomfiture we feel may be our most accurate human sensation; reminding us we are not quite "at home" here.

That's the worst of girls," said Edmund to Peter and the Dwarf. "They never can carry a map in their heads." "That's because our heads have something inside them," said Lucy.