I love planting. I love digging holes, putting plants in, tapping them in. And I love weeding, but I don't like tidying up the garden afterwards.

Love and hatred don't take turns; they exist side by side at the same time. And one's duty, one's obligation every day, is to choose to follow the nobler one.

The past is a room full of baggage and rubbish and sometimes things that are of use, but if they are of real use, I have kept them.

Habit gives endurance, and fatigue is the best night cap.

I've written a book about my mother, and I don't remember anyone going to Antigua or calling up my mother and verifying her life. There is something about this book that drives people mad with the autobiographical question.

It is true that our skin is sort of more or less the same shade. But is it true that our skin color makes us a distinctive race? No.

I am not aware of anything below my neck. I live completely in my head.