One of the pleasantest things about book writing is that sometimes it brings one in touch with old friends.

No hardy perennial has the enduring quality of hope. Cut it to the roots, stamp it underfoot, let frost and fire work their will, and still some valiant shoot will push, to grow again on such scanty fare as it can find. Only time and the cruel quicklime of fact can destroy that stubborn urgency.

I used to think I had ambition... but now I'm not so sure. It may have been only discontent. They're easily confused.

I was never one to begrudge people their memories. From a child I would listen when they spoke of the past.

Too much good fortune can make you smug and unaware. Happiness should be like an oasis, the greener for the desert that surrounds it.

no matter how hard and faithfully we may try we can never compensate another for some lack in his or her life.

...his hoofbeats fall like rain, over and over again.