I think the novel, its business is the investigation of human nature.

...falling in love could be achieved in a single word—a glance.

come back, come back to me

Imagining what it is like to be someone other than yourself is at the core of our humanity. It is the essence of compassion, and it is the beginning of morality.

I've never had a moment's doubt. I love you. I believe in you completely. You are my dearest one. My reason for life.

A person is, among all else, a material thing, easily torn and not easily mended.

True intelligence requires fabulous imagination.

When its gone, you'll know what a gift love was. you'll suffer like this. So go back and fight to keep it.

I believe the novella is the perfect form of prose fiction. It is the beautiful daughter of a rambling, bloated ill-shaven giant (but a giant who's a genius on his best days).

I'm holding back, delaying the information. I'm lingering in the prior moment because it was a time when other outcomes were still possible.

Observing human variety can give pleasure, but so too can human sameness.

The greatest intellectual capacities are only found in connection with a vehement and passionate will.

If there's one thing I would like to see, it'd be for us to be able to price the cost of carbon emissions.

Whether it is done quickly or slowly, however splendid the results, the process of writing fiction is inherently, inevitably, indistinguishable from wasting time.

Knowledge has the form of a tree, and since metaphysics is the most fundamental one of the theoretical disciplines, it represents the roots of the tree.

Trump is running for president and he's wasting no time getting down to business. In fact, just after his announcement he demanded to see Jeb Bush's birth certificate.

Adjustment? She called that an adjustment? How about I adjust her right out of existence?

You're the beautiful one. It's society that's ugly.

Do I think I'm a national treasure? I don't see why not? I don't see why I shouldn't be. I'm a good lad, really.

Boys and girls, And women, that would groan to see a child Pull off an insect's leg, all read of war, The best amusement for our morning meal.

We’re only human.” “One of us, anyway. The other’s a reptile.” “Harsh, Annabelle. Very harsh.