I have written two medical novels. I have never studied medicine, never seen an operation

The American insanity for Loving Everybody is ruining my good temper and delivering my stomach to enormous bouts with acidity.

The very idea of carrying my memory into eternity devastated me, and I took refuge in atheism.

My dreams are all follies.

At 8, I made a pact with God.

I am not alone at all, I thought. I was never alone at all. And that, of course, is the message of Christmas. We are never alone. Not when the night is darkest, the wind coldest, the world seemingly most indifferent. For this is still the time God chooses.

The feeble soul merely whines and complains.