Youth Knows No Remedy For Grief But

Is This The Final Treachery Of Time, That The Old Become A Burden Upon The Young?

The Only Difficulty Is To Know What Bits To Choose And What To Leave Out. Novel-writing Is Not Creation, It Is Selection.

This Alone Is To Be Feared - The Closed Mind, The Sleeping Imagination, The Death Of The Spirit. The Death Of The Body Is To That, I Think, A Little Thing.

I Advise Nobody To Drown Sorrow In Cocoa. It Is Bad For The Figure And It Does Not Alleviate The Sorrow.

I Am Fierce For Work. Without Work I Am Nothing.