“Many, many years ago I interviewed Desmond Tutu, prior to the end of apartheid, about a year and a half before it ended. And he kept, in the interview, saying, “when we end apartheid,” and I kept thinking, you know, as I was listening to him, “yeah right,” you know, like, “dream on!”; I mean, I didn’t want to rain on his parade or anything, but in my heart of hearts I thought “not in your lifetime.”…And lo and behold, a year and a half later it was over. So it was really a profound lesson about what can happen when the will of people aligns.”

“The end of the world. Let me tell you about the end of the world. It happened fifty years ago. Maybe a hundred. And since then it's been lovely. I mean it. Nobody tries to bother you. You can relax. You know what? I like the end of the world.”

“Kate, I’ve loved you for years. I mean, I know twelve-year-olds don’t know what love is, so I guess I should say I’ve really liked you for years. But when I saw you this year, I knew. I knew we should be together. I just didn’t know how hard you were going to make me work to get you to even like me. So, yeah, of course I want you to love me back.”

“What if I can't save Congo, but I try anyway? Would it be better to do nothing? Did he abolitionists really think they could end slavery? Did the anit-apartheid movement really think it could ban apartheid? Does Save Darfur really think they can save Darfur?”

“I love you. I don't know when it started, years ago or weeks. But I know my heart's lost to you, and I wouldn't have it another way. You're what I want, all there is of you.”

“Some years ago, I read an article about two people in the arts (alas, I can’t remember who they were) who’d been married for many, many years. Asked for the secret of their long partnership, they said: “We fell straight into conversation when we met, and we haven’t come to the end of that conversation yet.”I can’t think of a better model for marriage than that. Or of a narrative more romantic . . . .”