We hold each other's lives in our open hands, not in clenched fists.

I know that some readers think (The High King) should have ended differently. I cried for three days afterwards.

Eventually, I was sent to Wales and Germany, and after the war, to Paris.

She has given you something of value: the truth in her heart.

My family pleaded with me to forget literature and do something sensible, such as find some sort of useful work.

What seems to be love beyond any question is usually a simple case of indigestion.

Child, child, do you not see? For each of us comes a time when we must be more than what we are.