We'd forgive most things if we knew the facts.

We can love with our minds, but can we love only with our minds? Love extends itself all the time, so that we can love even with our senseless nails: we love even with our clothes, so that a sleeve can feel a sleeve.

The argument of danger only applies to those who live in relative safety.

All good novelists have bad memories. What you remember comes out as journalism; what you forget goes into the compost of the imagination.

There's a virtue in slowness, which we have lost

My fellow journalists called themselves correspondents; I preferred the title of reporter. I wrote what I saw. I took no action -- even an opinion is a kind of action.

We forget very easily what gives us pain.