They think my mother's ashes are marijuana.

To comfort me is like the wrong memory at the wrong place or time: if one is lonely one prefers discomfort.

They had been corrupted by money, and he had been corrupted by sentiment. Sentiment was the more dangerous, because you couldn’t name its price. A man open to bribes was to be relied upon below a certain figure, but sentiment might uncoil in the heart at a name, a photograph, even a smell remembered.

They are always saying God loves us. If thats love Id rather have a bit of kindness.

The subject of a novel is not the plot. Who remembers what happened to Lucien de Rebempre in the end?

Oh, I’m not a Berkeleian. I believe my back’s against this wall. I believe there’s a sten gun over there.

One can't love humanity. One can only love people.