Home Is Not Just The Place Where

We Travel, Initially, To Lose Ourselves; And We Travel, Next To Find Ourselves.

The Less Conscious One Is Of Being A Writer, The Better The Writing.

From The Beginning, I've Stressed That Home Is Something Internal, Invisible, Portable, Especially For Those Of Us With Roots In Many Physical Places; We Have To Root Ourselves In Our Passions, Our Values And Our Deepest Friends. My Home, I've Always Felt, Lies In The Songs And Novels That I Love, In The Wife And Mother That I'm Never Far Away From, In The Monastery To Which I've Been Returning For 25 Years.

I Think People Like Me Are In A Relatively Privileged Position Because We Have To Some Extent Chosen To Live In Foreign Places. I Would Always Make The Distinction Between Those Who Are Exiles In Terms Of Being Thrown Out Of The Place They Want To Be, And Others Who Are Exiles In Terms Of Going Toward A Place They Would Rather Be.

Writing Is, In The End, That Oddest Of Anomalies: An Intimate Letter To A Stranger.