“... too much brooding, not enough doing.”

“Lately you are brooding too much about rights. Give up this dangerous habit.”

“do we not love each other enough, or do we love ourselves too much!”

“Too much of anything is bad, but too much good whiskey is barely enough.”

“How much do you love me?"She drew in a breath and let it out. "Too much.""Too much is just enough for this man.""And do you love me?" she whispered."I have always loved you. Always. You know that.”

“ I also know that not everyone will like what I do, and that there are many people who do love my work, and so I write for them, and for my own pleasure, and try not to brood too much over those who have different tastes. And I have written enough books now that I know the self-doubt and the anxiety are part of the creative process, and drive me to keep trying to do better, and keep me from becoming too cocksure about my writing, which is a form of creative death.”