People never explain to you exactly what they think and feel and how their thoughts and feelings work, do they? They don't have time. Or the right words. But that's what books do. It's as though your daily life is a film in the cinema. It can be fun, looking at those pictures. But if you want to know what lies behind the flat screen you have to read a book. That explains it all.

The thing about opium is that it makes pain or difficulty unimaginable.

That's what opium does to suffering: makes it of hypothetical interest only.

Lonely's like any other organism; competitive and resourceful in the struggle to perpetuate itself.

I suppose I was lucky enough to be educated at a time when teachers still thought children could handle knowledge. They trusted us. Then there came a time when they decided that because not every kid in the class could understand or remember those things they wouldn't teach them anymore because it wasn't fair on the less good ones. So they withheld knowledge. Then I suppose the next lot of teachers didn't have the knowledge to withhold.

Knowing one was comprised of recycled matter only and that selfhood was a delusion did not take away the aching of the heart.

If you have only one life, you cant altogether ignore the question: are you enjoying it?