Forget Not Bees In Winter,

I Suppose The Pleasure Of Country Life Lies Really In The Eternally Renewed Evidences Of The Determination To Live.

I Cannot Bear That You / Should Think Me Faithful, When I Am Untrue.

For The Last 40 Years Of My Life I Have Broken My Back, My Fingernails, And Sometimes My Heart, In The Practical Pursuit Of My Favourite Occupation.

Travel Is The Most Private Of Pleasures. There Is No Greater Bore Than The Travel Bore. We Do Not In The Least Want To Hear What He Has Seen In Hong-kong.

Days I Enjoy Are Days When Nothing Happens, When I Have No Engagements Written On My Block, When No One Comes To Disturb My Inward Peace, When No One Comes To Take Me Away From Myself And Turn Me Into A Patchwork, A Jig-saw Puzzle, A Broken Mirror That Once Gave A Whole Reflection, Being So Contrived That It Takes Too Long A Time To Get Myself Back To Myself When They Have Gone.