There is always the threat of tomorrow's treachery, or next year's treachery, or the treachery implicit in all the tomorrows beyond that.

I was a coward. I went to the war.

Laughter does not deny pain. Laughter - like a wail - acknowledges and replies to pain.

What sticks to memory, often, are those odd little fragments that have no beginning and no end.

With a hangover and with fear, it is difficult to put a helmet on your head.

There is always the threat of tomorrow's treachery, or next year's treachery, or the treachery implicit in all the tomorrows beyond that.

We are fascinated, all of us, by the implacable otherness of others. And we wish to penetrate by hypothesis, by daydream, by scientific investigation those leaden walls that encase the human spirit, that define it and guard it and hold it forever inaccessible.