Write A Little Every Day, Without Hope,

What Is Life When You Come To Think Upon It, But A Most Excellent, Accurately Set, Infinitely Complicated Machine For Turning Fat Playful Puppies Into Old Mangy Blind Dogs, And Proud War Horses Into Skinny Nags, And Succulent Young Boys, To Whom The World Holds Great Delights And Terrors, Into Old Weak Men, With Running Eyes, Who Drink Ground Rhino-horn?

It Is Little Silly To Be A Caricature Of Something Of Which You Know Very Little, And Which Means Very Little To You, But To Be Your Own Caricature — That Is The True Carnival!

All Sorrows Can Be Borne If You Can Put Them Into A Story.

There Was A Place In The Hills, On The First Ridge In The Game Reserve, That I Myself At The Time When I Thought That I Was To Live And Die In Africa, Had Pointed Out To Denys As My Future Burial-place. In The Evening, While We Sat And Looked At The Hills From My House, He Remarked That Then He Would Like To Be Buried There Himself As Well. Since Then, Sometimes When We Drove Out In The Hills, Denys Had Said: "let Us Drive As Far As Our Graves.

In The Ngong Forest I Have Also Seen, On A Narrow Path Through Thick Growth, In The Middle Of A Very Hot Day, The Giant Forest Hog, A Rare Person To Meet.