The women all had big minds because they were big animals, but they didn't use them for this reason: unusual ideas could make enemies and the women, if they were going to achieve any sort of comfort and safety, needed all the friends they could get. So, in the interest of survival they trained themselves to be agreeing machines. All their minds had to do was to discover what other people were thinking and then they thought it too.

I never knew a writer's wife who wasn't beautiful.

There are too many of us and we are all too far apart.

I still catch myself feeling sad about things that don’t matter anymore.

Shrapnel was invented by an Englishman of the same name. Don't you wish you could have something named after you?

Why you? Why us for that matter? Why anything? Because this moment simply is.

If this isn't nice, I don't know what is.