Our Trouble Is That We Drink Too

To Say That These Men Paid Their Shillings To Watch Twenty-two Hirelings Kick A Ball Is Merely To Say That A Violin Is Wood And Catgut, That Hamlet Is So Much Paper And Ink.

There Are Plenty Of Clever Young Writers. But There Is Too Much Genius, Not Enough Talent.

But The Point Is, Now, At This Moment, Or Any Moment, We're Only Cross-sections Of Our Real Selves. What We Really Are Is The Whole Stretch Of Ourselves, All Our Time, And When We Come To The End Of This Life, All Those Selves, All Our Time, Will Be Us - The Real You, The Real Me. And Then Perhaps We'll Find Ourselves In Another Time, Which Is Only Another Kind Of Dream.

To Resent And Remember Brings Strife; To Forgive And Forget Brings Peace.

The People Who Pretend That Dying Is Rather Like Strolling Into The Next Room Always Leave Me Unconvinced. Death, Like Birth, Must Be A Tremendous Event.