I Am Still Reeling With Delight At

It's Strange That Those We Miss The Most Are Those We Take For Granted.

Hymn Tunes Are The Nearest We've Got To English Folk Music.

Old Men Who Never Cheated, Never Doubted, Communicated Monthly, Sit And Stare At The New Suburb Stretched Beyond The Run-way Where A Young Man Lands Hatless From The Air.

And Behind Their Frail Partitions Business Women Lie And Soak, Seeing Through The Draughty Skylight Flying Clouds And Railway Smoke. Rest You There, Poor Unbelov'd Ones, Lap Your Loneliness In Heat, All Too Soon The Tiny Breakfast, Trolley-bus And Windy Street!

History Must Not Be Written With Bias, And Both Sides Must Be Given, Even If There Is Only One Side.