We're all the same. We all want the same thing in life. Everybody going around like ants and we all want the same thing. And it's not one queen. It's not one queen with the wings.
What I mean by that is that the point of life, as I see it, is not to write books or scale mountains or sail oceans, but to achieve happiness, and preferably an unselfish happiness.
I volunteered for this life, wanted it and am not going to bitch about it now that I've got it.
O human beauty, what a dream art thou, that we should cast our life and hopes away on thee!
I have always considered that choosing a companion for life was a very important affair and that my happyness or misery in this life depended on the choice.
There is nothing I have to reflect on that gives me more satisfaction than the fact that my life is insured for the benefit of my Dear Wife and children.
As it was, I realized choosing the study of Chinese literature as my life's work was probably a mistake.
He who can live in infamy is unworthy of life.
Each instant of life is a step toward death.
One half of my life has put the other half in the grave.
Family life was wonderful. The streets were bleak. The playgrounds were bleak. But home was always warm. My mother and father had a great relationship. I always felt 'safe' there.
I have always had a sense that we are all pretty much alone in life, particularly in adolescence.
The deeper I get into my life as a musician, I'm discovering that it becomes less and less about other people, and more about what I want to do. And that's a good place to be.
My version, of course, is not this flag-waving, let's all get on the Jesus train and ride out of hell. I'm not that kind of guy. It's an embrace that life is good, worth living and yeah, it's not easy, but there are more pluses than minuses.
I think it's a question which particularly arises over women writers: whether it's better to have a happy life or a good supply of tragic plots.