The problem with freedom is that when people have it, they do what they want to.

Men do everything that men do, from waging war to reading books, for one purpose only: to get laid.

All nineteen-year-old males are children who are men capable of war.

Don’t you wonder sometimes, ” Miranda asked, “whether women have all the power or no power at all?

That’s what nobody admits about men, how needy they are.

Once you’ve gotten used to a certain kind of smell from a certain kind of flesh, whether it’s a lover or a rotting corpse, you long for it when it’s not around. Or maybe it’s just me.

That was what maturity was: accepting things. The more things you accepted, the more mature you were.

Praising heroes who slay monsters is a writer’s most ancient task.

Arthur, do you think the fall of the Wall means anything? Do you think that this means that even one fewer body will burn?

The past was dwindling, like something shrinking to a speck in the rear-view mirror, and the future was shining through the windscreen, demanding her full attention.

Beauty is wasted on the self-absorbed.

No one controls who we turn into but us.

But who ever yet was offered a secret and declined it? Who at least ever declined a love secret? What sister could do so?

Water may be extremely dirty, yet its nature remains clear.

The body knows things about which the mind is ignorant

My earliest memories are the best. I always try to remember the good times when Daddy was alive.

In every person's life, around 27 to 29 years old, the stars and the planets align themselves to exactly the way they were when you were born. You're faced with yourself. There's no running away.

Children take in more information than we'd like to believe.

Art daunts us with its cold exacting dullness, kitsch gratifies us (with cosy democratic largesse).