I'm a very boring person.

I've lost all capacity for disbelief. I'm not sure that I could even rise to a little gentle scepticism.

Dying is not romantic, and death is not a game which will soon be over... Death is not anything... death is not... It's the absence of presence, nothing more... the endless time of never coming back... a gap you can't see, and when the wind blows through it, it makes not sound.

Having translated two plays by Chekhov, and not speaking Russian myself - I cannot say one sentence. This may shock people... However, I am not shocked, as it is not hard to find out what the words mean.

The causes we know everything about depend on causes we know very little about, which depend on causes we know absolutely nothing about.

In England the rich own the poor and the men own the women.

I feel overestimated.