I remember many years ago, I asked [Dalai Lama] about exile and he said: "Well, exile is good because it's brought me and my people closer to reality," and reality is almost a shrine before which he sits. Exile brings us up against the wall and forces us to rise to the challenge of the moment.

We may be joined these days more by the questions we have in common than by the answers we share.

The Australians, it seems to me, thrive on their remoteness from the world and see it as a way of keeping up a code of "No worries, mate," while peddling their oddities to visitors: nonconformity is at once a fact of life for many, and a selling point.

The beauty of being foreign is that it snaps you awake.

You rebel against your parents until you become them. One day you look in the mirror and you see your father's face.

You can continue your practice, you can exercise kindness, you can practice meditation whether you're in a prison or a millionaire's house, whether you're in India or Tibet.

Any school would gain, if the students began the day with meditation, cleared their heads and got themselves centered.