Pleasure To Me Is Wonder—the Unexplored, The

In My Dreams I Found A Little Of The Beauty I Had Vainly Sought In Life, And Wandered Through Old Gardens And Enchanted Woods.

To Me There Is Nothing More Fraught With Mystery & Terror Than A Remote Massachusetts Farmhouse Against A Lonely Hill. Where Else Could An Outbreak Like The Salem Witchcraft Have Occurred?

In London There Is A Man Who Screams When The Church Bells Ring.

No Amount Of Rationalisation, Reform, Or Freudian Analysis Can Quite Annul The Thrill Of The Chimney-corner Whisper Or The Lonely Wood.

If I Could Create An Ideal World, It Would Be An England With The Fire Of The Elizabethans, The Correct Taste Of The Georgians, And The Refinement And Pure Ideals Of The Victorians.