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.

Insecurity twists meanings and poisons trust. In a closely beleaguered city every sentry is a potential traitor.

It was as though our love were a small creature caught in a trap and bleeding to death: I had to shut my eyes and wring its neck.

It's a pity people pick and choose what they learn from the Bible.

Point me out the happy man and I will point you out either egotism, selfishness, evil - or else an absolute ignorance.

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

However great a man's fear of life, suicide remains the courageous act, the clear-headed act of a mathematician. The suicide has judged by the laws of chance - so many odds against one that to live will be more miserable than to die. His sense of mathematics is greater than his sense of survival. But think how a sense of survival must clamor to be heard at the last moment, what excuses it must present of a totally unscientific nature.