Death, it seems," Garp wrote, "does not like to wait until we are prepared for it. Death is indulgent and enjoys, when it can, a flair for the dramatic.
This is what self-centered religion does to us: it allows us to use it to further our own ends.
Our memory is a monster; you forget it - it does not.
It's a no-win argument - that business of what we're born with and what our environment does to us. And it's a boring argument, because it simplifies the mysteries that attend both our birth and our growth.
The more clearly one sees this world; the more one is obliged to pretend it does not exist.
. . .There are moments when time does stop. We must be alert enough to notice such moments . . .