What should worry us is not the number of people that oppose us, but how good their reasons are for doing so.

The greatest difficulty of Travel is that one is forced to take oneself along.

Never too late to learn some embarrassingly basic, stupidly obvious things about oneself.

Despite its maddeningly vague, inarticulate form, anxiety is almost always trying to tell you something useful and apposite.

Being content is perhaps no less easy than playing the violin well: and requires no less practice.

The assumption is that life doesn't need to be navigated with lessons. You can just do it intuitively. After all, you only need to achieve autonomy from your parents, find a moderately satisfying job, form a relationship, perhaps raise some children, watch the onset of mortality in your parents' generation and eventually in your own, until one day a fatal illness starts gnawing at your innards and you calmly go to the grave, shut the coffin and are done with the self-evident business of life.

The arrogance that says analysing the relationship between reasons and causes is more important than writing a philosophy of shyness or sadness or friendship drives me nuts. I can't accept that.