I Had A Farm In Africa, At

Write A Little Every Day, Without Hope, Without Despair.

There Was A Place In The Hills, On The First Ridge In The Game Reserve, That I Myself At The Time When I Thought That I Was To Live And Die In Africa, Had Pointed Out To Denys As My Future Burial-place. In The Evening, While We Sat And Looked At The Hills From My House, He Remarked That Then He Would Like To Be Buried There Himself As Well. Since Then, Sometimes When We Drove Out In The Hills, Denys Had Said: "let Us Drive As Far As Our Graves.

In The Mind And Nature Of A Man A Secret Is An Ugly Thing, Like A Hidden Physical Defect.

I Do Not Know If You Remember The Tale Of The Girl Who Saves The Ship Under Mutiny By Sitting On The Powder Barrel With Her Lighted Torch... And All The Time Knowing That It Is Empty? This Has Seemed To Me A Charming Image Of The Women Of My Time. There They Were, Keeping The World In Order... By Sitting On The Mystery Of Life, And Knowing Themselves That There Was No Mystery.

To Me, The Explanation Of Life Seems To Be Its Melody, Its Pattern. And I Feel In Life Such An Infinite, Truly Inconceivable Fantasy.