I worried she might spend an afternoon chatting with me about the sights and then wish me best of luck.

Yet somehow the thing that startled me most, after a week or two had passed, was that I had in fact survived.

Autobiography, if there really is such a thing, is like asking a rabbit to tell us what he looks like hopping through the grasses of the field. How would he know? If we want to hear about the field on the other hand, no one is in a better circumstance to tell us-so long as we keep in mind that we are missing all those things the rabbit was in no position to observe.

Sometimes we get through adversity only by imagining what the world might be like if our dreams should ever come true.

Watch for the thing that will show itself to you. Because that thing, when you find it, will be your future.

No one knows the author of memoir so well like himself.

You know, the men go to tea houses with the expectation that they will have a nice quiet evening and not read about it the next morning in the newspaper.