Among The Many Problems Which Beset The

It Is Dreadful How I Miss You, And Everything That Everybody Says Seems Flat And Stupid.

I Do Not Like January Very Much. It Is Too Stationary. Not Enough Happens. I Like The Evidences Of Life, And In January There Are Too Few Of Them.

Of Course I Should Love To Throw A Toothbrush Into A Bag, And Just Go, Quite Vaguely, Without Any Plans Or Even A Real Destination. It Is The Wanderlust.

Growth Is Exciting; Growth Is Dynamic And Alarming.

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Another One, To Counteract The Feeling Of Flatness That Comes Upon Us When The Agonizing Delights Of Anticipation Have Been Replaced By The Colder Flood Of Fulfilment.