Real Life Seems To Have No Plots.

I Think I Feel On The Whole That Something's There Trying To Get Out ... It's Sort Of Trying To Get Out And Wants Help.

If I Were Not A Child With My Parents, They Would Be More Unloving Toward Me.

Well, Buttermere, This Is A Day That Is Good To Live And Breathe In, That Makes A Man Feel In His Prime. Standing Here In Front Of My House, I Feel As Young As When I Moved Into It Thirty Years Ago, In The Year Eighteen Hundred And Fifty-nine. What Aged Man Would You Take Me To Be, As I Step As It Were Casually Into Your View?

Never Is A Long Word.

[on Writing:] What A Difficult Kind Of Work To Choose! But Of Course One Did Not Choose It. There Was No Choice.