Our problem right now is that we're so specialized that if the lights go out, there are a huge number of people who are not going to know what to do. But within every dystopia there's a little utopia.

You're sad because you're sad. It's psychic. It's the age. It's chemical. Go see a shrink or take a pill, or hug your sadness like an eyeless doll you need to sleep. Well, all children are sad but some get over it. Count your blessings. Better than that, buy a hat. Buy a coat or a pet. Take up dancing to forget.

Knowing too much about other people puts you in their power, they have a claim on you, you are forced to understand their reasons for doing things and then you are weakened.

Neither of us says the word love, not once. It would be tempting fate; it would be romance, bad luck.

Don't let the bastards grind you down.

Love was like a steamroller. There was no avoiding it; it went over you and you came out flat.

No one knows what cuases an outer landscape to become an inner one.