Death strips all men of dignity.

Memory is a great deceiver: it embroiders until naught is left but the glory and the pleasure.

Love wasn't a piece of music you could play over and over again with different interpretations. It actually needed to be improvised as you went along.

A man who denies his past is a man who truly denies himself a future, for he refuses to know himself, and to deny knowledge of oneself is to stumble through life as handicapped as the blind mute.

Humiliation scars deeper than the lash.

Two bones fell down my chimney and into the bedroom this morning. Hysterical thing to happen to a thriller writer. Murderous ravens perhaps?

Information is the mortar that both builds and destroys empires.