The Work Is With Me When I

When A Man Who Is Drinking Neat Gin Starts Talking About His Mother He Is Past All Argument.

I Must Be Like The Princess Who Felt The Pea Through Seven Mattresses; Each Book Is A Pea.

Clairvoyant, Hornblower Could Foresee That In A Year's Time, The World Would Hardy Remember The Incident. In Twenty Years, It Would Be Entirely Forgotten. Yet Those Headless Corpses Up There In Muzillac; Those Shattered Redcoats; Those Frenchmen Caught In The Four-pounder's Blast Of Canister -- They Were As Dead As If It Had Been A Day In Which History Had Been Changed.

I Thank God Daily For The Good Fortune Of My Birth, For I Am Certain I Would Have Made A Miserable Peasant.

Novel Writing Wrecks Homes.