The Labour Party of today has fits of horrors of the very thought of somebody like me might saying that they bought in white Australia. But I believe they did.

Old age is an ordeal, of flesh and mind. Of winding down, of slowing down, of dying cells. It's accepting the loss of physical attractiveness and replacing it with the power and wisdom that can only come with old age.

I have an editor in my head, that's why I can't read Harry Potter, because Rowling is such a lousy writer.

Twelve thousand miles of it, to the other side of the world. And whether they came home again or not, they would belong neither here, nor there, for they would have lived on two continents and sampled two different ways of life.

When we press the thorn to our chest we know, we understand, and still we do it.

Perfection, in anything, is unbearably dull. Myself, I prefer a touch of imperfection.

If you love people, they kill you. If you need people, they kill you. They do I tell you!