You should have fallen in love with a happy man, if you wanted happiness. But no, you had to fall for the breathtaking beauty of pain.

Events may be horrible or inescapable. Men have always a choice - if not whether, then how, they may endure.

All the worry people expend over not existing after they die, yet nary a one ever seems to spare a moment to worry about not having existed before they were conceived. Or at all. After all, one sperm over and we would have been our sisters, and we'd never have been missed.

I miss it every minute, and I have no wish at all to go back.

Any man can be kind when he is comfortable. I'd always thought kindness a trivial virtue, therefore. But when we were hungry, thirsty, sick, frightened, with our deaths shouting at us, in the heart of horror, you were still as unfailingly courteous as a gentleman at ease before his own hearth.

I do think, half of what we call madness is just some poor slob dealing with pain by a strategy that annoys the people around him.

All the geniuses I ever met were so just part of the time. To qualify, you only have to be great once, you know. Once when it matters.