In the end there is no desire so deep as the simple desire for companionship.

To comfort me is like the wrong memory at the wrong place or time: if one is lonely one prefers discomfort.

When we are not sure, we are alive.

In Switzerland they had brotherly love, five hundred years of democracy and peace, and what did they produce? The cuckoo clock!

To be in love is to see yourself as someone else sees you, it is to be in love with the falsified and exalted image of yourself. In love we are incapable of honor - the courageous act is no more than playing a part to an audience of two.

It is the storytellers task to elicit sympathy and a measure of understanding for those who lie outside the boundaries of State approval.

...every monologue sooner or later becomes a discussion.