Sometimes the best conversations between strangers allow the stranger to remain a stranger.

We jump at the chance to judge strangers. We would never do that to ourselves, of course. We are nuanced and complex and enigmatic. But the stranger is easy. If I can convince you of one thing in this book, let it be this: Strangers are not easy.

The issue with spies is not that there is something brilliant about them. It is that there is something wrong with us.

You believe someone not because you have no doubts about them. Belief is not the absence of doubt. You believe someone because you don’t have enough doubts about them.

Those who are not part of existing social hierarchies are free to blurt out inconvenient truths or question things the rest of us take for granted.

The advantage to human beings lies in assuming that strangers are truthful.

If you don’t begin in a state of trust, you can’t have meaningful social encounters.

But remember, doubts are not the enemy of belief; they are its companion.

Our strategies for dealing with strangers are deeply flawed, but they are also socially necessary.

We tend to judge people’s honesty based on their demeanor. Well-spoken, confident people with a firm handshake who are friendly and engaging are seen as believable. Nervous, shifty, stammering, uncomfortable people who give windy, convoluted explanations aren’t.

We do not understand the importance of the context in which the stranger is operating.

When you confront the stranger, you have to ask yourself where and when you’re confronting the stranger — because those two things powerfully influence your interpretation of who the stranger is.

Don’t look at the stranger and jump to conclusions. Look at the stranger’s world.

Whatever it is we are trying to find out about the strangers in our midst is not robust. The “truth” about Amanda Knox or Jerry Sandusky or KSM is not some hard and shiny object that can be extracted if only we dig deep enough and look hard enough. The thing we want to learn about a stranger is fragile. If we tread carelessly, it will crumple under our feet. And from that follows a second cautionary note: we need to accept that the search to understand a stranger has real limits. We will never know the whole truth. We have to be satisfied with something short of that. The right way to talk to strangers is with caution and humility. How many of the crises and controversies I have described would have been prevented had we taken those lessons to heart?

Sometimes people will only confide in someone they trust, but other times they need the listener to be a complete stranger.

It was they who taught me that a conversation even between strangers could be a gift and sport of sorts, a chance for warmth, banter, blessings, humor, that spoken words could be fire at which you warmed yourself.

I particularly value conversations which are meetings on the borderline of what I understand and what I don't, with people who are different from myself.

I do desire we may be better strangers.

The right way to talk to strangers is with caution and humility.

The next time you face a room full of strangers . . . you might tell yourself that some of them are just friends waiting to be found.

I’m drawn to conversation because in the best kind you don’t know where you’re going, only that you will get somewhere good.

The best kind of conversation is that which may be called <i>thinking aloud</i>.

When strangers meet, great allowances should be made for differences in custom and training.

Sweet, crazy conversations full of half sentences, daydreams and misunderstandings more thrilling than understanding could ever be.

You shall love the stranger, for you were strangers in the land of Egypt.” Those most likely to befriend strangers, in other words, are those who have been strangers themselves. The best way to grow empathy for those who are lost is to know what it means to be lost yourself.

You can love somebody without it being like that. You keep them a stranger, a stranger who's a friend.