A Man And His Tools Make A

There Is Something Intrinsically Wrong About Letters. For One Thing They Are Not Instantaneous. ... Nor Is This The Only Trouble About Letters. They Do Not Arrive Often Enough. A Letter Which Has Been Passionately Awaited Should Be Immediately Supplemented By Another One, To Counteract The Feeling Of Flatness That Comes Upon Us When The Agonizing Delights Of Anticipation Have Been Replaced By The Colder Flood Of Fulfilment.

I Cannot Abide The Mr. And Mrs. Noah Attitude Towards Marriage; The Animals Went In Two By Two, Forever Stuck Together With Glue.

How Subtle Is The Relationship Between The Traveler And His Luggage! He Knows, As No One Else Knows, Its Idiosyncrasies, Its Contents ... And Always Some Small Nuisance Which He Wishes He Had Not Brought; Had Known, Indeed, Before Starting That He Would Regret It, But Brought It All The Same.

The Farmer And The Gardener Are Both Busy, The Gardener Perhaps The More Excitable Of The Two, For He Is More Of The Amateur, Concerned With The Creation Of Beauty Rather Than With The Providing Of Food. Gardening Is A Luxury Occupation; An Ornament, Not A Necessity, Of Life.

A Man And His Tools Make A Man And His Trade.