The pleasure we derive from journeys is perhaps dependent more on the mindset with which we travel than on the destination we travel to.

In the works of Lucretius, we find two reasons why we shouldn't worry about death. If you have had a successful life, Lucretius tell us, there's no reason to mind its end. And, if you haven't had a good time, "Why do you seek to add more years, which would also pass but ill?"

It's hard loving those who don't much like themselves: "If you're so great, why would you think I'm so great.

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

Our homes do not have to offer us permanent occupancy or store our clothes to merit the name. To speak of home in relation to a building is simply to recognise its harmony with our own prized internal song. Home can be an airport or a library, a garden or a motorway diner.

It seems the only way to write a half decent book is to worry oneself sick on an hourly basis that one is producing a complete disaster.

My writing always came out of a very personal place, out of an attempt to stay sane.