Every Day Is Ordinary, Until It Isn't.

I'm Fortunate That The Books Sell, But Even More Fortunate To Live In Chatham, To Be Very Happily Married And To Have, On The Whole, A Fairly Clear Conscience.

You Know What Circumcision Is, Private?

We Make Children And Wealth And Amass Land And Build Halls And Assemble Armies And Give Great Feasts, But Only One Thing Survives Us. Reputation.

I Do Understand That You Can Look Into Someone’s Eyes,” I Heard Myself Saying, “and Suddenly Know That Life Will Be Impossible Without Them. Know That Their Voice Can Make Your Heart Miss A Beat And That Their Company Is All Your Happiness Can Ever Desire And That Their Absence Will Leave Your Soul Alone, Bereft And Lost.

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.