“Is it ever thus, at the end of things? Does any woman ever count the grains of her harvest and say: Good enough? Or does one always think of what more one might have laid in, had the labor been harder, the ambition more vast, the choices more sage?”

“Does any woman ever count the grains of her harvest and say: Good enough? Or does one always think of what more one might have laid in, had the labor been harder, the ambition more vast, the choices more sage?”

“There's more truth in a grain of sand than you'll ever hear from man, woman, saint or sage. We classicists would sooner trust a potsherd.”

“...even saying good-bye isn’t enough. There’s always one more thing you should have had the time to say, or do, or ask. There’s always going to be that one missing piece.”

“When it's in a book I don't think it'll hurt any more ...exist any more. One of the things writing does is wipe things out. Replace them.”

“Your trouble, William, is that you have no ambition. You don't see that there is in life only ever one goal.' 'And what is that?'More', George said simply. 'Just more of anything. More of everything.”