Dear 338171 (may I Call

Mad Dogs And Englishmen Go Out In The Mid-day Sun; The Japanese Don't Care To, The Chinese Wouldn't Dare To; Hindus And Argentines Sleep Firmly From Twelve To One, But Englishmen Detest A Siesta.

Someday I Suspect, When Jesus Has Definitely Got Me For A Sunbeam, My Works May Be Adequately Assessed.

I'll Go Through Life Either First Class Or Third, But Never In Second.

Fifty-four Years Of Love And Tenderness And Crossness And Devotion And Unswerving Loyalty. Without Her I Could Have Achieved A Quarter Of What I Have Achieved, Not Only In Terms Of Success And Career, But In Terms Of Personal Happiness.

Conceit Is An Outward Manifestation Of Inferiority.