Having without having: it’s possible, isn’t it, that that’s worse than not having at all?

We want better reasons for having children than not knowing how to prevent them.

Having a baby dragged me, kicking and screaming, from the world of self-absorption.

Leigh stands there, not so much a figure to scare crows as to beckon doves.

I’ll put it to you simply: love is the enemy. That’s my conclusion. We should all live in our little monk cells and never venture out ...

Was it a form of madness, no longer to be able to trust your sense of things? To be betrayed by decisions apparently arrived at carefully and through reason, but really no more than marauding appetites cunningly tricked out as reasonable choices?