The horror was this: the others.

First time my master’s in English literature ever proved useful.

What if the drive to survive was a form of faith, a form of prayer?

But Marchent, most journalists can’t be trusted. You do know that, don’t you?

You’re a mystery the way a sacrament is a mystery.

Writers had a way of redeeming everything that ever happens to them.

Is there any one of us who doesn’t want to strike back at all the evil in this world?

Who could trust language?

In the story of the prince and the frog, there’s always a frog. This story ... it has no frog.

And you will keep breaking my heart a thousand times. And I will keep joining the pieces back a thousand times.

This may be the curse of the human race, not that we are so different from one another, but that we are so alike.

Avoiding life, avoiding making any concrete plans for your life--that's just one way you're pretending you can keep bad things from happening to you again.

Being remembered, and remembered so kindly, touched him more than he would have thought possible.

I'm a true believer that if someone bothers you, you care.

The truth that survives is simply the lie that is pleasantest to believe.

We all go a little mad sometimes.

I am surrounded here by parsons and methodists, but as you will see, not infested with the mania.

Public opinion, though slow as lava, in the end forces governments towards more sanity, more justice. My heroes and heroines are all private citizens.

The blackness would stir and eventually go away, and God would remain, a shining point of light in my heart. I would go on loving.