You have to go, but I have to stay.

Where is home? I've wondered where home is, and I realized, it's not Mars or someplace like that, it's Indianapolis when I was nine years old. I had a brother and a sister, a cat and a dog, and a mother and a father and uncles and aunts. And there's no way I can get there again.

I am of course a skeptic about the divinity of Christ and a scorner of the notion that there is a God who cares how we are or what we do.

That is the first thing I know for sure: (1.) If the questions don't make sense, neither will the answers.

What we will be seeking... for the rest of our lives will be large, stable communities of like-minded people, which is to say relatives. They no longer exist. The lack of them is not only the main cause, but probably the only cause of our shapeless discontent in the midst of such prosperity.

The most damning revelation you can make about yourself is that you do not know what is interesting and what is not.

They tell him that there is no why, since the moment simply is and since all of them are trapped in the moment, like bugs in amber.