hen we mourn those who die young — those who have been robbed of time — we weep for lost joys. We weep for opportunities and pleasures we ourselves have never known. We feel sure that somehow that young body would have known the yearning delight for which we searched in vain all our lives.

Memory is never pure. And recollection is always coloured by the life lived since

We learn from tragedy. Slowly.

Very odd, old age. Always knew it would happen, if I was lucky. I just didn't expect it so soon.

Time, for a man who has never truly felt a second of it, it not a great sacrifice

Television ... the new gladiatorial arena.

All damaged people are dangerous. Survival makes them so.' 'Why?' 'Because they have no pity. They know what others can survive, as they did.