The Chief Requirement Of The

So We Live; A Spirit That Broods And Hovers Over The Continual Death Of Time, The Lost Meaning, The Unrecaptured Moment, The Unremembered Face, Until The Final Chop That Ends All Our Moments And Plunges That Spirit Back Into The Void From Which It Came.

Until I Have Been Able To Bury My Head So Deep In Dear London That I Can Forget That I Have Ever Been Away I Am Inconsolable.

I Live, I Live, With An Absolutely Continuous Sense Of Failure. I Am Always Defeated, Always. Every Book Is The Wreck Of A Perfect Idea. The Years Pass And One Has Only One Life. If One Has A Thing At All One Must Do It And Keep On And On And On Trying To Do It Better.

Love Is The Last And Secret Name Of All The Virtues.

The Theatre Is A Tragic Place, Full Of Endings And Partings And Heartbreak.