There was always another side to a joke, the side of the victim.

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

Innocence always calls mutely for protection when we would be so much wiser to guard ourselves against it: innocence is like a dumb leper who has lost his bell, wandering the world, meaning no harm.

I can never think of you as a friend. You can do without a friend.

The world was in her heart already, like the small spot of decay in a fruit.

One's life is more formed, I sometimes think, by books than by human beings: it is out of books one learns about love and pain at second hand.

I wrote at the start that this was a record of hate, and walking there beside Henry towards the evening glass of beer, I found the one prayer that seemed to serve the winter mood: O God, You've done enough, You've robbed me of enough, I'm too tired and old to learn to love, leave me alone forever.