So many (too many) books are published every year, and it seems everyone is writing a book. Perhaps we should all be reading more and writing less!

You're so calm and quiet, you never say. But there are things inside you. I see them sometimes, hiding in your eyes.

It's those little daily incidents of life that are dramatic, and if you put a frame around it , suddenly they become much bigger and much more important than you ever imagined.

It's a rare book that wins the battle against drooping eyelids.

I find that when I come out of the library I'm in what I call the library bliss of being totally taken away from the distractions of life.

He saw things in a way that others did not, so that a city I had lived in all my life seemed a different place, so that a woman became beautiful with the light on her face.

Don't write about what you know - write about what you're interested in. Don't write about yourself - you aren't as interesting as you think.

As I get older, I use less jewelry - necklace or earrings each morning, not both; my clothes are getting more basic - fewer colours and simpler cuts; and my make-up is stripped back to basics.

The sign of a masterpiece: A painting when there's a lack of resolution.

You know I don’t listen to market gossip,” she began, “but it is hard not to hear it when my daughter’s name is mentioned.

I have consistently loved books that I've read when I've been sick in bed.

You will realize one day that all the money in the world cannot buy you happiness. Nor can it make you a person of good character.

This is her home now--of her own free will.

Striving for excellence motivates you striving for perfection is demoralizing.

There's going to be positive and negative in anything in life.

Very little mathematics has direct applications - though fortunately most of it has plenty of indirect ones.

I don't believe all this nonsense about market timing. Just buy good value and when the market is ready that value will be recognized.

Pain redeems all. It is the awareness of life, a reminder of death.

He who lives upon the fruit of his own labor, escapes the contempt of haughty benefactors.

It's always so early in here, before the crossroads, before the irrevocable choices. Thank you for this life! Still I miss the alternatives. The sketches, all of them, want to become real.

I guess a man's best friend is his mother.