It had been a war of kingly poisons, in the air, in the memory, in the blood.

There is such solace in the mere sight of water. It clothes us delicately in its blowing salt and scent, gossamer items that medicate the poor soul

Because it strikes me there is something greater than judgement. I think it is called mercy.

That is because at the close of the day the ship we sail in is the soul, not the body.

After all the world is indeed beautiful and if we were any other creature than man we might be continuously happy in it.

The human animal began as a mere wriggling thing in the ancient seas, struggling out onto land with many regrets. That is what brings us so full of longing to the sea.

I haven't really written my plays and books - I've heard them. The stories are there already, singing in your genes and in your blood.

It is always worth itemising happiness, there is so much of the other thing in a life, you had better put down the markers for happiness while you can.

It is very difficult to be a hero without an audience, although, in a sense, we are each the hero of a peculiar, half-ruined film called our life.

A beard on a man is only a way of hiding something, his face of course, but also the inner matters, like a hedge around a secret garden, or a cover over a bird cage.

And whatever my life had been up to that day, it was another life after that. And that is the gospel truth.

We may be helpless to stop bad things from happening, but perhaps God leaves us signs and road maps to help us recover and reconnect, provided we know where to look.

I leaned back and glimpsed the stars, the same stories again but written in the sky.

I've had cancer twice and if I had to pick one fate for you, cancer or fertility problems-I'd pick cancer.

As the late baseball manager Sparky Anderson put it: “Losing hurts twice as bad as winning feels good.

Old age is like a plane flying through a storm. Once you are aboard there is nothing you can do.

All you need is the plan, the road map, and the courage to press on to your destination.

If we strike a line to the N.W. from Sydney to Wellington Valley, we shall find that little change takes place in the geological features of the country.

I'm such a control freak. I want to control even my own death. Decide when I will die and how.

You might be able to thrash your way out of a spiderweb, but thrashing in quicksand doesn’t work. The harder you fight, the more ground you lose. Struggling merely expedites your inevitable defeat.

If you don't love Jesus-go to hell!