Humanity Has A Strange Fondness For Following

Anything That Happens To You Has Some Bearing Upon What You Write.

But What's The Good Of Freedom? What Can You Do With It? What One Wants Is To Live Well And Have A Beautiful House And Be Respected By People.

I Dont Think There Is Anything On Earth More Wonderful Than Those Wistful Incomplete Friendships One Makes Now And Then In An Hour's Talk. You Never See The People Again, But The Lingering Sense Of Their Presence In The World Is Like The Glow Of An Unseen City At Night--makes You Feel The Teemingness Of It All.

If I Were Sufficiently Romantic I Suppose I'd Have Killed Myself Long Ago Just To Make People Talk About Me. I Haven't Even Got The Conviction To Make A Successful Drunkard.

There's Something Wonderfully Exciting About The Quiet Sing Song Of An Aeroplane Overhead With All The Guns In Creation Lighting Out At It, And Searchlights Feeling Their Way Across The Sky Like Antennae, And The Earth Shaking Snort Of The Bombs And The Whimper Of Shrapnel Pieces When They Come Down To Patter On The Roof.