It might not be perfect, but the fundamental stance I adopted with regard to my home was to accept it, problems and all, because it was something I myself had chosen. If it had problems, these were almost certainly problems that had originated within me.

While they're still alive, people can become ghosts.

Ordinary imperfect people, always choose similarly imperfect people as friends.

But who can say what's best? That's why you need to grab whatever chance you have of happiness where you find it, and not worry about other people too much. My experience tells me that we get no more than two or three such chances in a life time, and if we let them go, we regret it for the rest of our lives.

The best point of my novels, I think, is their humor. I want to keep many my works humorous.

All imperfections are forced upon the imperfect, so the 'perfect' can live content and oblivious.

It's because of you when I'm in bed in the morning that I can wind my spring and tell myself I have to live another good day.