Life Calls The Tune, We Dance.

If You Do Not Think About The Future, You Cannot Have One.

Memory Heaps Dead Leaves On Corpse-like Deeds, From Under Which They Do But Vaguely Offend The Sense.

It Is An Age Of Stir And Change, A Season Of New Wine And Old Bottles. Yet, Assuredly, In Spite Of Breakages And Waste, A Wine Worth The Drinking Is All The Time Being Made.

There Is One Rule For Politicians All Over The World: Don't Say In Power What You Say In Opposition; If You Do, You Only Have To Carry Out What The Other Fellows Have Found Impossible.

There Are Houses Whose Souls Have Passed Into The Limbo Of Time, Leaving Their Bodies In The Limbo Of London. Such Was Not Quite The Condition Of Timothy's On The Bayswater Road, For Timothy's Soul Still Had One Foot In Timothy Forsyte's Body, And Smither Kept The Atmosphere Unchanging, Of Camphor And Port Wine And House Whose Windows Are Only Opened To Air It Twice A Day.