And What Made These Heart-to-hearts Possible--you Might

The World Is Crawling With Authors Touring Now. They're Like Performance Artists.

What Is Pertinent Is The Calmness Of Beauty, Its Sense Of Restraint. It Is As Though The Land Knows Of Its Own Beauty, Its Own Greatness, And Feels No Need To Shout It.

It Was Like Being Given A Maths Problem When Your Brain's Exhausted, And You Know There's Some Far-off Solution, But You Can't Work Up The Energy Even To Give It A Go. Something In Me Just Gave Up.

Memory, I Realize, Can Be An Unreliable Thing; Often It Is Heavily Coloured By The Circumstances In Which One Remembers.

What Is The Point Of Worrying Oneself Too Much About What One Could Or Could Not Have Done To Control The Course One's Life Took? Surely It Is Enough That The Likes Of You And I At Least Try To Make Our Small Contribution Count For Something True And Worthy. And If Some Of Us Are Prepared To Sacrifice Much In Life In Order To Pursue Such Aspirations, Surely That In Itself, Whatever The Outcome, Cause For Pride And Contentment.