~Don’t you see, once there’s a rumour that you’re dishonest, it sticks to you like…a bad smell that you can’t wash off, and everybody knows it’s there, they notice it, and I don’t want to be in Norwich day after day thinking that people are thinking I’m some kind of fraud.~

~Those Russians weren’t so great on enjoyment, were they? I reckon they boozed and shagged like the rest of us, but it’s not as if it gave them much joy, if you know what I mean.~

~I don’t tell lies as a rule, except when I have to, if you know what I mean, but I reckon you weigh up the price of honesty against the price of dishonesty, and sometimes dishonesty’s just a better deal.~

~Do you ever wonder whether you can really decide your own future? Or is what we were born for decided for us by somebody else?~

~ You know, I guess nobody’s reading Camus any more, but he maintained that ‘There is but one truly serious philosophical problem and that is suicide.’…Which makes me kind of wonder: why am I doing a PhD on Kierkegaard?’

~I mean, what are friends for if not to share each other’s mystifications?~

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