Right In The Hart Of

I Can't Be Expected To Produce Deathless Prose In An Atmosphere Of Gloom And Eucalyptus.

We Stared At The Odd Garment And Wondered What It Was For. 'what Is It?' Asked Larry At Length. 'it's A Bathing Costume, Of Course,' Said Mother. 'what On Earth Did You Think It Was?' 'it Looks Like A Badly Skinned Whale,' Said Larry, Peering At It Closely.

I Said I 'liked' Being Half-educated; You Were So Much More 'surprised' At Everything When You Were Ignorant.

If Naturalists Go To Heaven (about Which There Is Considerable Ecclesiastical Doubt), I Hope That I Will Be Furnished With A Troop Of Kakapo To Amuse Me In The Evening Instead Of Television.

Why Keep In Touch With Them? That's What I Want To Know,' Asked Larry Despairingly. 'what Satisfaction Does It Give You? They're All Either Fossilized Or Mental.' 'indeed, They're Not Mental,' Said Mother Indignantly. 'nonsense, Mother... Look At Aunt Bertha, Keeping Flocks Of Imaginary Cats... And There's Great-uncle Patrick, Who Wanders About Nude And Tells Complete Strangers How He Killed Whales With A Penknife...they're All Bats.