It's a mystery of human chemistry and I don't understand it, some people, as far as their senses are concerned, just feel like home.

[about suicide] And why is it the biggest sin of all? All your life you're told that you'll be going to this marvellous place when you pass on. And the one thing you can do to get you there a bit quicker is something that stops you getting there at all. Oh, I can see that it's a kind of queue­jumping. But if someone jumps the queue at the Post Office, people tut. Or sometimes they say, “Excuse me, I was here first.” They don't say, “You will be consumed by hellfire for all eternity.” That would be a bit strong.

I'm very good at the past. It's the present I can't understand.

The plain state of being human is dramatic enough for anyone

I was still owed an explanation, I thought, but so what? What good was it going to do me? It wouldn't have made me any happier. It was like scratching when you have chicken pox. You think it's going to help, but the itch moves over, and then moves over again. My itch suddenly felt miles away, and I couldn't have reached it with the longest arms in the world. Realizing that made me scared that I was going to be itchy forever, and I didn't want that.

Sequels are very rarely a good idea, and in any case, the success of the book changed my relationship with the club in some ways.

The truth about life was that nothing ever ended until you died, and even then you just left a whole bunch of unresolved narratives behind you.