It smelled like sugar cookies as he walked through the door, though it was anyone's guess whether actual cookies were involved or if it was just candles made of lies and disappointment.

I have found food general guidelines are: be polite, be pleasant, be brief. When even that is too much to manage, pick a quiet corner and look at everyone like they are the greatest of disappointments. Obey royalty, be respectful to those above you, ignore or indulge those below you, and always be generous to staff and tradesmen. One loyal servant is worth then kings.

Despair? I don't despair. I have never once in my life despaired anything. I make a point not to go further than resignation.

'Still too thin. You've let your hair grow out a bit, though. Trying to look pretty for your prince? I've told you time and again you're far too ugly to be saved.'

'You've got no room to talk of ugly. Your poor wife, always having to wear a blindfold to bed. If I'm too thin, it's because you've got all my weight. Palace life is making you into a unicorn.'

Do not underestimate the strength it takes to be the hearth everyone turns to for warmth.

Once the scent caught me on the street in Greenwich Village. I stopped in my tracks and looked around. Where was it coming from? A shop? The trees? A passerby? I could not tell. I only knew the smell made me cry. I stood on the sidewalk in Greenwich Village as people brushed by, and felt suddenly young and terribly open, as if I were waiting for something. I live in an ocean of smell, and the ocean is my mother.