Early on I saw the repression and idolatry of Stalinism, and when it cracked, I was open to religion again.

My mother enjoyed old age, and because of her I've begun to enjoy parts of it too. So far I've had it good and am crumbling nicely.

I am pleased now that I have lived in a gay as well as a religious ghetto, though it hasn't been very comfortable. Taken together, their limitations cancel each other out and I have seen the world more kindly and more honestly.

I learnt pity, sympathy, and what it was like to be at the other end of the stick. Such lessons can't be learnt in lecture halls.

I was not allowed a physical lover. Falling in love with Love was the best I could get.

To change, to convert? Why bother?

The Christian use of religion as a personal love affair both shocked me, and attracted me.