No yoga exercise, no meditation in a chapel filled with music will rid you of your blues better than the humble task of making your own bread.

death ... so seldom happens nowadays in the awesome quiet of a familiar chamber. Most of us die violently, thanks to the advance of science and warfare. If by chance we are meant to end life in our beds, we are whisked like pox victims to the nearest hospital, where we are kept as alone and unaware as possible of the approach of disintegration.

I can no more think of my own life without thinking of wine and wines and where they grew for me and why I drank them when I did and why I picked the grapes and where I opened the oldest procurable bottles, and all that, than I can remember living before I breathed.

For me, a plain baked potato is the most delicious one....It is soothing and enough.

Write one good clean sentence and put a period at the end of it. Then write another one.

France eats more conciously, more intelligently, than any other nation.

But if I must be alone, I refuse to be alone as if it were something weak and distasteful, like convalescence.