Fictional Characters Are Made Of Words, Not

If I Was Asked To Say What Was The Greatest Invention Of Human Beings, I Would Say The Sentence.

The Secret Of Survival Is A Defective Imagination.

That's One Of The Many Things I Hate About Life, That It's A Hideously Cliched Business.

There Are Times, They Occur With Increasing Frequency Nowadays, When I Seem To Know Nothing, When Everything I Know Seems To Have Fallen Out Of My Mind Like A Shower Of Rain, And I Am Gripped For A Moment In Paralysed Dismay, Waiting For It All To Come Back But With No Certainty That It Will.

We Carry The Dead With Us Only Until We Die Too, And Then It Is We Who Are Borne Along For A Little While, And Then Our Bearers In Their Turn Drop, And So On Into The Unimaginable Generations.