Hymns Are The Poetry Of The People.

On Out Deathbeds We're Not Going To Regret All The Work We Didn't Do. We're Going To Regret All The Sex We Didn't Have!

Approval Of What Is Approved Of Is As False As A Well-kept Vow.

History Must Not Be Written With Bias, And Both Sides Must Be Given, Even If There Is Only One Side.

What The Londoner Sees In His Mind's Eye Is That Cluster Of Towers And Pinnacles Seen From Pentonville Hill And Outlined Against A Foggy Sunset, And The Great Arc Of Barlow's Train Shed Gaping To Devour Incoming Engines, And The Sudden Burst Of Exuberant Gothic Of The Hotel Seen From Gloomy Judd Street.

Topography Is One Of My Chief Themes In My Poetry, About The Country, The Suburbs And The Seaside. Then There Comes Love... And Increasingly; The Fear Of Death.