Truth comes to us mediated by human love.

Of all liars the most arrogant are biographers: those who would have us believe, having surveyed a few boxes full of letters, diaries, bank statements and photographs, that they can play at the recording angel and tell the whole truth about another human life.

I don't think you can tell the objective truth about a person. That's why people write novels.

Watching a whole cluster of friends, and my own mother, die over quite a short space of time convinced me that purely materialist 'explanations' for our mysterious human existence simply won't do - on an intellectual level.

When I think about atheist friends, including my father, they seem to me like people who have no ear for music, or who have never been in love.

Human beings love stories because they safely show us beginnings, middles and ends.