Philosophy is an odd thing. When we use the word in everyday speech, you know, you sometimes hear it hilariously.

I found it all about as arousing as a Tupperware party.

Part of life is learning what to be ashamed of and what to be proud of.

The English language is like London: proudly barbaric yet deeply civilised, too, common yet royal, vulgar yet processional, sacred yet profane.

If there were a God he would want us to be better spirited than to take his word for everything.

You don't sit down and write a wish list about the person you are going to fall violently in love with. It just doesn't work like that.

Self pity is the worst possible emotion anyone can have. And the most destructive. It is, to slightly paraphrase what Wilde said about hatred, and I think actually hatred's a subset of self pity and not the other way around - 'It destroys everything around it, except itself.'