Sex was like the wooden horse of Troy, he decided. How uncomplicated a gift it seemed at first, but once you had let it through the gate how many unexpected dangers might be found to have stowed themselves away inside.

Are we all just lightning rods for other people's destinies? Is that what it's all about

Oh I don't know,' he said. 'But maybe, maybe love should be a kind of journey

It was far better, he thought, just to get on with life yourself, to have your own adventures and make your own mistakes, without raising a banner over them that proclaimed: I'm this, or I'm that; of this party or of the other one.