Love doesn't just sit there, like a stone; it has to be made, like bread, remade all the time, made new.

A man does not make his destiny: he accepts it or denies it.

Almost everything is double like that for adolescents; their lies are true and their truths are lies, and their hearts are broken by the world. They gyre and fall; they see through everything, and are blind.

And though I came to forget or regret all I have ever done, yet would I remember that once I saw the dragons aloft on the wind at sunset above the western isles; and I would be content.

In war everybody is a prisoner.

While we read a novel, we are insane—bonkers. We believe in the existence of people who aren't there, we hear their voices... Sanity returns (in most cases) when the book is closed.

Where does your soul go, when you die in Hell?