I made choices, and then, having made them, I had fewer choices.

Where were we? I've forgotten. He was deciding whether to cut her throat or love her forever.Right. Yes. The usual choices.

They seemed to be able to choose. We seemed to be able to choose, then. We were a society dying of too much choice.

How did she end up in this madhouse? By putting one foot in front of the other and never taking her eyes off her feet. You could end up anywhere that way.

I am a believer in sensible choices, so different from many of my own. Also in sensible names for children.

If he wants to be an asshole, it's a free country. Millions before him have made the same life choice.

We are a society dying, said Aunt Lydia, of too much choice.