At the time, I didn't have the insight to wonder at the transient nature of despair, but now that I'm older I've seen how little it takes to turn a person's life around for better or worse. An event will do, or an Idea. Another person. An idea of a person.

My daughter is a fantastic travelling companion - she's totally organised, whereas I'm hopeless.

I'd like to think life has improved since 1850, despite the long hours we all seem to spend slaving over hot computers, but the psychological journeys remain the same - the search for love, identity, a meaningful place in the world.

I give thanks for all that has passed, for all that is passing, and for all that is yet to come.

Every war has turning points and every person too.

I didn't seem to have that effect on anyone but it would have been a waste for both of us to be saints.

I can't even trust my own imaginary dog. How much lower can a person get?