Life was a series of greetings and farewells, one was always saying good-bye to something, to someone..

Writing every book is like a purge; at the end of it one is empty ... like a dry shell on the beach, waiting for the tide to come in again..

no person will ever get into my blood as a place can ... People and things pass away, but not places..

Happiness is not a possession to be prized, it is a quality of thought, a state of mind..