Love Is A Temporary Madness.

History Is The Propaganda Of The Victors.

Love Is A Kind Of Dementia With Very Precise And Oft-repeated Clinical Symptoms. You Blush In Each Other's Presence, You Both Hover In Places Where You Expect The Other To Pass, You Are Both A Little Tongue-tied, You Both Laugh Inexplicably And Too Long, You Become Quite Nauseatingly Girlish, And He Becomes Quite Ridiculously Gallant. You Have Also Grown A Little Stupid.

So The News That Divorced Fathers Are To Be Denied A Legal Right To A Relationship With Their Children, In The Long Overdue Review Of Family Law Published This Week, Fills Me With Horror And Despair.

No Man Is A Man Until He Has Been A Soldier.

Your Lips Are Like Sugar And Your Cheeks An Apple Your Breasts Are Paradise And Your Body A Lily. O, To Kiss The Sugar To Bite The Apple To Reveal Paradise And Open The Lily.