“Why does it take fear to move you? Why does it take chaos to make us understand exactly what we need to do?”

“It's that old, old fear thing again. Why does it creep along with us, attached to us like our shadow? Why can't it just leave us alone? Why can't we tell each other what we think and what we feel?”

“You have to look inside yourself and you have to say, well, what am I about? Why does anyone need this? Why does anyone need a ‘Tom Ford’ jacket? What do I believe in?”

“As mortal humans we are born with a death sentence anyway, so what difference does a little poison make? Why not take a chance you will survive the ordeal and make something significant of your life?..." p330”

“How many hundreds of thousands of fingers brushing against each other does it take to make love? Why does anyone ever make love?”

“Why does the threat of violent death alter some of us, even if subtly, forever? Why does it make us unusually numb or calm when we ought to feel terrified? Why do scents or sounds trigger in some of us a feeling of terror or unbearable dread, even in situations where we know, at least, intellectually, that we are perfectly safe?”