You’re my best friend, Shmuel,’ he said. ‘My best friend for life.
Never trust a man who thinks his religion gives him all the answers.
Beryl, on death: “No, you should never choose death, but it chooses you. Sometimes you know it’s coming, like my mother, and sometimes it takes you by surprise, like my friend Ariel’s uncle who got killed in a hunting accident. Sooner or later, we all get chosen, we all get taken from this world into the next. Whether we end up in Heaven or Hell, and what we do with our lives in the meantime-those are the choices we get to make.
He longed for the deep as she longed for the night sky and for white lilies floating on water — although she still tried to convince herself that love alone could feed her soul.
No sentimentality, no romance, no false hope, no self-petting lies, merely that which is!
I finally made friends with my father when I entered my twenties. We had so little in common when I was a boy, and I am certain I had been a disappointment to him. He did not ask for a child with a book of its own world. He wanted a son who did what he had done: swam and boxed and played rugby, and drove cars at speed with abandon and joy, but that was not what he had wound up with.
You can only believe so many lies before becoming one of them.
A friend asks if I know the difference between a saint and a martyr: A saint is someone who radiates goodness and bears no faults. A martyr is someone who lives with a saint.
The danger isn’t the river’s speed, friend, but its slowness.
The excitement of dreams coming true is beyond the description of words.