We Invent The Past And Remember The

One Does Not Travel By Plane. One Is Merely Sent, Like A Parcel.

It Is A Sad Hardship And Slavery To People Who Live In Towns, That In Their Movements They Know Of One Dimension Only; They Walk Along The Line As If They Were Led On A String. The Transition From The Line To The Plane Into The Two Dimensions, When You Wander Across A Field Or Through A Wood, Is A Splendid Liberation To The Slaves, Like The French Revolution. But In The Air You Are Taken Into The Full Freedom Of The Three Dimensions; After Long Ages Of Exile And Dreams The Homesick Heart Throws Itself Into The Arms Of Space.

Now, Looking Back On My Life In Africa, I Feel That It Might Altogether Be Described As The Existence Of A Person Who Had Come From A Rushed And Noisy World, Into A Still Country.

The Cure For Anything Is Salt Water: Sweat, Tears Or The Sea.

There Is Something About Safari Life That Makes You Forget All Your Sorrows And Feel As If You Had Drunk Half A Bottle Of Champagne — Bubbling Over With Heartfelt Gratitude For Being Alive.