Human kindness is like a defective tap, the first gush may be impressive but the stream soon dries up.
Old age makes caricatures of us all.
All fiction is largely autobiographical and much autobiography is, of course, fiction.
I don't see why escapist literature shouldn't also be a work of art.
I still occasionally need to struggle but I now fear it less. The weapons I fight it with are also my consolations: books, music, food, wine, nature.
we can forgive anything as long as it isn't done to us.