“what a sad pair we are," she said. "Surely we can manage a conversation on a topic other than our respective terrible evenings.”

“What we do in every other area of our lives (other than religion), is, rather than respect somebody's beliefs, we evaluate their reasons.”

“We used to spend hours talking. We never got tired of talking, never raun out of topics - novels, the world, scenery, language. Our conversations were more open and intimate than ane lovers'.”

“It was a true conversation. About whether our ancestors had more important lives than we do. And how they've managed to trick us, if they did not.”

“You and I,” she said slowly, saying each word with care, “are a pair of scissors.”“A pair of scissors…” I replied, unsure of what she meant.“Alone, we’re knives. Sharp and nasty, made to hurt others. But together, we are scissors. Better, safer, more useful. But more than that, we are our missing halves. And whatever comes between us, we destroy.”“I like that,” I told her.“You don’t think it’s creepy?” she asked tentatively.“No, it’s not creepy. Because I love you.”

“People of different religions and cultures live side by side in almost every part of the world, and most of us have overlapping identities which unite us with very different groups. We can love what we are, without hating what – and who – we are not. We can thrive in our own tradition, even as we learn from others, and come to respect their teachings.”