Memoirists wish to tell their mind, not their story.

I come from people who have always been polite enough to feel that nothing has ever happened to them.

People come and go in life, but they never leave your dreams. Once they're in your subconscious, they are immortal.

Planes are my foxhole. I'm always on my knees in them.

You can’t put much on paper before you betray your secret self, try as you will to keep things civil.

No memoirists writes for long without experiencing an unsettling disbelief about the reliability of memory, a hunch that memory is not, after all, just memory.

Pondering was the highest vocation... Pondering was a special kind of thinking. It was not done in the mind, that chilly place, but in the heart, where the real mystery of intelligence - intuition - rather than thought lay catlike and feminine, ready to pounce.