But what was a body? Dust, dung, urine, itches. It was the light within which was important, and it was not significant if that light endured after death, or if the soul was blinded eternally in the endless night of the suspired flesh.

Don't let the past steal your present. This is the message of Christmas: We are never alone.

One of my grandsons used to insist, when he was only 3 or 4, that he had been born and had lived in India

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.

I gratefully look forward to oblivion, but I must be sure of it

Character, I am sure, lies in the genes.

People are scared to death of dying. I am the opposite.