Few - very few - of our attainments are so profound that they are valid for always; even if they are so, they need adjustment, a straightening here, a loosening there, like an old garment to be fitted to the body.

Whoever designed this frigging map was having a laugh. Just around the corner, my arse.

The past is our treasure. Its works, whether we know them or not, flourish in our lives with whatever strength they had. From it we draw provision for our journey, the collected wisdom whose harvests are all ours to reap and carry with us, though we may never live again in the fields that grew them.

I do like people who have not yet made up their minds about everything, who in fact are still receiving

I feel like a divorced wife once my book is published and has left me, and hate to be brought back into intimate contact!

The true call of the desert, of the mountains, or the sea, is their silence - free of the networks of dead speech.

words are but drops pressed out of the lives of those who lived them.