Heresy is only another word for freedom of thought.

...every monologue sooner or later becomes a discussion.

Thrillers are like life, more like life than you are.

He couldn't tell that this was one of those occasions a man never forgets: a small cicatrice had been made on the memory, a wound that would ache whenever certain things combined - the taste of gin at mid-day, the smell of flowers under a balcony, the clang of corrugated iron, an ugly bird flopping from perch to perch.

Death will come in any case, and there is a long afterwards if the priests are right and nothing to fear if they are wrong.

It's strange how the human mind swings back and forth, from one extreme to another. Does truth lie at some point of the pendulum's swing, at a point where it never rests, not in the dull perpendicular mean where it dangles in the end like a windless flag, but at an angle, nearer one extreme than another? If only a miracle could stop the pendulum at an angle of sixty degrees, one would believe the truth was there.

Ordinary life goes on--that has saved many a man's reason.