I am so happy to be communicating with people on this newest of new wavelengths which to some older people must seem like a kind of magic.

The white man has settled like a locust over Africa, and, like the locusts in early morning, cannot take flight for the heaviness of the dew on their wings. But the dew that weights the white man is the money that he makes from our labor.

I'll be pleased when I'm dead. That will let me off worrying about all these wars.

That is what learning is. You suddenly understand something you've understood all your life, but in a new way.

The older I get the more secrets I have, never to be revealed and this, I know, is a common condition of people my age. and why all this emphasis on kissing and telling? Kisses are the least of it.

As you get older, you don't get wiser. You get irritable.

In the writing process, the more a story cooks, the better.