We are tempted to believe that certain achievements and possessions will give us enduring satisfaction. We are invited to imagine ourselves scaling the steep cliff face of happiness in order to reach a wide, high plateau on which we will live out the rest of our lives; we are not reminded that soon after gaining the summit, we will be called down again into fresh lowlands of anxiety and desire.

Despite the best efforts of critics and the hopes of authors, our tastes in books are probably as inherent & unbudgeable as those in food.

Happiness is impossible for longer than 15 minutes. We are the descendants of creatures who, above all else, worried.

Cynics are - beneath it all - only idealists with awkwardly high standards.

Must being in love always mean being in pain?

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

It's perhaps easier now than ever before to make a good living; it's perhaps harder than ever before to stay calm, to be free of career anxiety.