Ruskin Bond, an Indian author with a British family line, has been one of the best authors the business has seen. He grew up in the midst of the Himalayas and had his first book distributed at 17 years old. His works are remarkable and thus were recognized as a noteworthy contribution to the development of kids in India.

His most recent book, The Beauty Of All My Days, discusses his long periods of composing, his adventure as an author and how every last bit of it moulded his life. The book hits all the nostalgic harmonies including layers of how every last one of us recollects things in various ways.

Here are some quotes from the book that will hit you right in the feels:


I was always walking. But I was never a fast walker. I walked slowly because I  wanted to see things - treetops, rooftops,  birds in flight, kite flying, cloud formations - starting wit the sky above and ending with the green grass growing at my feet.


I sought solitude, but I did not seek  loneliness. You can be lonely in a crowd, in a  big city, if you have no friends. And you can  live alone in a cottage in the hills and be  far from lonely, because for a great part of  the time you will be busy keeping the old  cottage from falling down.


I saw the docks, the pier,  a throng of people seeing off their  friends and relatives. There was no one to see me off, except for the land itself.


To be seduced by the sun - what could be more sensuous, more thrilling than the first  contact with the earth's life force? And then it  was gone - gone as swiftly as an escaping  thought - and I would have to follow it outside,  to where the sunbeams advanced  across the hillside.


'Miss Kellner' I approached the old lady with some caution. As I came closer, I noticed she had a  beaky nose and bright-blue eyes. Her head was  covered by a small straw hat. I was quite close  before she noticed me. Without looking up  she said, 'You must be Edith's son,' (Edith being  my mother's  name); so she was aware  of my presence.


Above the stream was a grassy knoll on which grew a lone pine three. I would go there sometimes with my notebook and jot  down a poem or few stray thoughts or ideas  for stories. It was my place of power.


I am not a powerful man, just a frail human full of faults and foibles; but sitting on that knoll, in the fragrance of the pine, and looking out over the  receding hills and the valley beyond, I was filled with  a sense of well-being, of belief in myself... And I had experienced a great sense of uplift, an ascending of spirit, the certainty that I would go where I wanted and do what I wanted.


I must have been a conceited young man to feel that I was special in some way. But aren't we all special in our different wasy? And sometimes it's that ego, that arrogant self-belief, that keeps us going when others falter in the pursuit of a dream.


Rakesh brings me a cup of tea. Absent-mindedly I dip my pen into the teacup. I'm getting careless. Yesterday I put shaving cream on my toothbrush; and in the evening, instead of adding water to my rum, I poured in a generous amount of vodka. It was most refreshing.


It is important to have children in the house. When there is laughter bouncing  off the walls, I catch some of it too. A house  is truly blessed only when it resounds with  the innocent laughter of children.


Where else could I  live and write? The choice in  today's world is rather limited.