It took me less than half a lifetime to realize that regret is one of the few guaranteed certainties. Sooner or later everything is touched by it, despite our naive and senseless hope that just this time we will be spared its cold hand on our heart.

Hope is a great falsifier. Let good judgment keep her in check.

The origin of the absurd idea of immortal life is easy to discover it is kept alive by hope and fear, by childish faith, and by cowardice.

A lot of people, because of my contempt for the false consolations of religion, think of me as a symbolic public opponent of that in extremis. And sometimes that makes me feel a bit alarmed, to be the repository of other people's hope.

There are only two lasting bequests we can hope to give our children. One of these is roots, the other, wings.