Turning into my father.

A bumpy flight … or driving with my son Sam, who drives great, but I still can’t believe he’s old enough.

I’ve been a strong advocate that all my five children should be great swimmers, so you can deduce what my fear is.

Instead, I am badly oppressed by a gnawing sense of waste. I had real plans for my next decade and felt I’d worked hard enough to earn it. Will I really not live to see my children married? To watch the World Trade Center rise again? To read—if not indeed write—the obituaries of elderly villains like Henry Kissinger and Joseph Ratzinger? But I understand this sort of non-thinking for what it is: sentimentality and self-pity.

Impatience. My dad said I was born in a hurry.

“Oh, he’s all about money.” I’ve never charged anyone in all the years I’ve been doing one-to-one work. That’s my gift to the world.

I was a Harrods store detective for a day. I was so bad at it, one of the other detectives thought I looked suspicious and reported me.

The most intensive and beautiful golden sunlight. It’s the strongest force in the universe.

Pleasure is a glass of champagne, happiness is when you are living your values. I get up each morning and I’m excited by the day, and I have good health. This is the happiest that I’ve ever been.

In the Sultan of Brunei’s will.