Maybe that's what growing up means, in the end - you go far enough in the direction of - somewhere - and you realise that you've neutered the capacity of the term home to mean anything. [...] We don't get an endless number of orbits away from the place where meaning first arises, that treasure-house of first experiences. What we learn, instead, is that our adventures secure us in our isolation. Experience revokes our licence to return to simpler times. Sooner or later, there's no place remotely like home.

The body apologizes to the soul for its errors, and the soul asks forgiveness for squatting in the body without invitation.

It's the endlessly thinking about yourself that causes such heart shame.

Children are wickeder than adults, they have no sense of restraint.

...I dabble in causes and effects.

The more civilized we become, the more horrendous our entertainments.

No one controls your destiny. Even at the very worst - there is always choice.