Metaphysical speculation is about as pointless as a discussion on the meaning of one's lungs. They're for breathing.

People were excited by violence. What, after all, was the sexual act but a voluntarily endured assault, a momentary death?

I don't want anyone to look to me, not for protection, not for happiness, not for love, not for anything.

We live in a society which salves its conscience more by helping the interestingly unfortunate than the dull deserving.

In youth we take egregious risks because death has no reality for us. Youth goes caparisoned in immortality. It is only in middle age that we are shadowed by the awareness of the transitoriness of life.

For me, the dead remain dead. If I couldn't believe that, I don't think I could go on living.

you'd like the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth. That must be the most futile oath anyone ever swears.