When you're a kid it's people's cruelty that makes you cry, then when you're an adult it's their kindness.

I don't know how one should live - but I know that one should live.

There’s a reason humans peg-out around eighty: prose fatigue. It looks like organ failure or cancer or stroke but it’s really just the inability to carry on clambering through the assault course of mundane cause and effect. If we ask Sheila then we can’t ask Ron. If I have the kippers now then it’s quiche for tea. Four score years is about all the ifs and thens you can take. Dementia’s the sane realisation you just can’t be doing with all that anymore.

When you're a kid it's people's cruelty that makes you cry, then when you're an adult it's their kindness.

That's what happens when you keep a secret from someone you love: you start to hate them for allowing you to prove your own willingness to deceive them.

Snow makes cities innocent again, reveals the frailty of the human gesture against the void.

I suppose the word "unbearable" is a lie by definition. Unless you kill yourself immediately after using it.