Maine is a joy in the summer. But the soul of Maine is more apparent in the winter.

Winter is a season of recovery and preparation.

There are probably more annoying things than being hectored about African development by a wealthy Irish rock star in a cowboy hat, but I can't think of one at the moment.

Travel is a state of mind. It has nothing to do with existence or the exotic. It is almost always an inner experience.

Indian enterprises seemed to work so well they produced disasters; success made them burst at the seams and the disruption of unprecedented orders led to shortages and finally failure.

You go away for a long time and return a different person - you never come all the way back.

Fiction writing, and the reading of it, and book buying, have always been the activities of a tiny minority of people, even in the most-literate societies.