Autumn Arrives In The Early Morning.

In 'real Life' Everything Is Diluted; In The Novel Everything Is Condensed.

Raids Are Slightly Constipating.

Spoilt Pleasure Is A Sad, Unseemly Thing; You Can Only Bury It.

We Desert Those Who Desert Us; We Cannot Afford To Suffer; We Must Live How We Can.

Some Ideas, Like Dandelions In Lawns, Strike Tenaciously: You May Pull Off The Top But The Root Remains, Drives Down Suckers And May Even Sprout Again.