He had discovered that people who allow themselves to be blown about by the winds of emotion and impulse are always unhappy people.

You imagine the carefully pruned, shaped thing that is presented to you is truth. That is just what it isn't. The truth is improbable, the truth is fantastic; it's in what you think is a distorting mirror that you see the truth.

There is always the other side, always.

...morbidly, attracted him to strangeness, to recklessnesss, even unhappiness.

I've been so ridiculous all my life that a little bit more or a little bit less hardly matters now.

Would you like a whiskey?' I say. 'I've got some.' (That's original. I bet nobody's ever thought of that way of bridging the gap before.)

There is no doubt that running away on a fresh, blue morning can be exhilarating.