Ah, The Old Questions, The Old Answers,

Do You Always Believe In The Life To Come? Mine Was Always That.

And What I Have, What I Am, Is Enough, Was Always Enough For Me, And As Far As My Dear Little Sweet Little Future Is Concerned I Have No Qualms, I Have A Good Time Coming.

Any Fool Can Turn A Blind Eye But Who Knows What The Ostrich Sees In The Sand.

I Hope I Am Not Too Old To Take It Up Seriously, Nor Too Stupid About Machines To Qualify As A Commercial Pilot. I Do Not Feel Like Spending The Rest Of My Life Writing Books That No One Will Read. It Is Not As Though I Wanted To Write Them.

Imagination At Wit's End Spreads Its Sad Wings.