We forget very easily what gives us pain.

You don't bless what you love...It's when you want to love and you can't manage it. You stretch out your hands and you say God forgive me that I can't love but bless this thing anyway...We have to bless what we hate...It would be better to love, but that's not always possible.

I hate you, God. I hate you as though you actually exist.

Suffering is not increased by numbers; one body can contain all the suffering the world can feel.

Sooner or later... one has to take sides. If one is to remain human.

It is the earliest dream that I can remember, earlier than the witch at the corner of the nursery passage, this dream of something outside that has got to come in. The witch, like the masked dancers, has form, but this is simply power, a force exerted on a door, an influence that drifted after me upstairs and pressed against windows.

He was impregnably armored by his good intentions and his ignorance.