Perhaps, he thought, true pure love, like all flowers, flourished best with its roots in muck and mud. Perhaps that was a law of life that held everything together.

I'm afraid love is just a word.

That question is too good to spoil with an answer.

Using someone's name during a conversation was like a casual caress, like stroking their hair.

A man who has never been hungry may possess a more refined palate, but he has no idea what it means to eat.

Perhaps, he thought, true pure love, like all flowers, flourished best with its roots in muck and mud. Perhaps that was a law of life that held everything together.

If you find life absurd, shouldn’t you find death precisely meaningful?