Advice to young writers? Always the same advice: learn to trust our own judgment.

We use our parents like recurring dreams, to be entered into when needed.

A simple grateful thought turned heavenwards is the most perfect prayer.

Whatever you're meant to do, do it now. The conditions are always impossible.

If a fish is the movement of water embodied, given shape, then cat is a diagram and pattern of subtle air.

Every child has the capacity to be everything.

Any human anywhere will blossom in a hundred unexpected talents and capacities simply by being given the opportunity to do so.

What's terrible is to pretend that second-rate is first-rate. To pretend that you don't need love when you do; or you like your work when you know quite well you're capable of better.

Things are not quite so simple always as black and white.

You have to be grown up, really grown up, not merely in years, to understand your parents.

There is nothing more boring for an intelligent woman than to spend endless amounts of time with small children.

I am not protecting myself or preaching you my story, Reasons will be many but life will move on even in painful journey.

As we grow older, our bodies get shorter and our anecdotes longer.

I can't do anything quietly anymore.

Drop Thy still dews of quietness, Till all our strivings cease; Take from our souls the strain and stress, And let our ordered lives confess The beauty of Thy peace.

That being said, I think we should immediately deprecate any string concatenation that combines '19' with '99'.

Because letting someone in close meant they could hurt you. I knew all about that kind of fear. I lived with it.

Our character is not so much the product of race and heredity as of those circumstances by which nature forms our habits, by which we are nurtured and live.

I have loved by far the majority of the people I've worked with and the experiences I've had.

Your work is first, learning is first, winning is everything because without it there is nothing.

That was the trouble with moving houses; no matter how carefully you packed the books, they never ended up on the new shelves in quite the right place.