One day the ordinariness will be terminally punctuated by the extraordinary full stop of death.

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.

We go to the past to lay the blame - since the past can't argue. We go to our past selves to account for our present miseries.

Renounce love and you can achieve demonic focus.

When I see gurgling retarded children (that's God's doing, by the way, not mine) happily styling their hair with their own stinking mards, I think of Adam in those pre-marital days. I know he's your great-to-the-nth-degree-granddad and all - but I'm afraid he was rather an imbecile.

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

Kneecaps only exist to get hit with claw-hammers; grace only exists to be fallen from.