The trouble is I don't believe my unbelief.

In human relationships, kindness and lies are worth a thousand truths.

Despair is the price one pays for setting himself an impossible aim.

For God's sake stop making people in your image. Harry was real. He wasn't just your hero and my lover. He was Harry. He was in a racket. He did bad things. What about it? He was the man we knew.

When he was young, he had thought love had something to do with understanding, but with age he knew that no human being understood another. Love was the wish to understand, and presently with constant failure the wish died, and love died too perhaps or changed into this painful affection, loyalty, pity.

When we are not sure, we are alive.

You cannot love without intuition.