The fading light is us, and we are, for a moment so brief (...) beautiful.

Satire always benefits when evil and stupidity collide.

In America, the distance between wanting something and having it delivered to your living room is not terribly great.

Silence has been destroyed, but also the idea that it's important to learn how another person thinks, to enter the mind of another person. The whole idea of empathy is gone. We are now part of this giant machine where every second we have to take out a device and contribute our thoughts and opinions.

The best thing about the iPhone is this that tells me where I am all the time. Theres never a need to feel lost anymore.

I am born hungry. Ravenous. I want to eat the world, and I can never be satiated.

In the first few pages, Kundera discusses several abstract historical figures: Robespierre, Nietzsche, Hitler. For Eunice's sake, I wanted him to get to the plot, to introduce actual "living" characters - I recalled this was a love story - and to leave the world of ideas behind. Here we were, two people lying in bed, Eunice's worried head propped on my collarbone, and I wanted us to feel something in common. I wanted this complex language, this surge of intellect, to be processed into love. Isn't that how they used to do it a century ago, people reading poetry to one another?