I Am Suspicious Of Both Facility And

Unless You Have Been To Boarding-school When You Are Very Young, It Is Absolutely Impossible To Appreciate The Delights Of Living At Home.

The Writer Walks Out Of His Workroom In A Daze. He Wants A Drink. He Needs It. It Happens To Be A Fact That Nearly Every Writer Of Fiction In The World Drinks More Whisky Than Is Good For Him. He Does It To Give Himself Faith Hope And Courage. A Person Is A Fool To Become A Writer. His Only Compensation Is Absolute Freedom. He Has No Master Except His Own Soul And That I Am Sure Is Why He Does It.

But There Was One Other Thing That The Grown-ups Also Knew, And It Was This: That However Small The Chance Might Be Of Striking Lucky, The Chance Is There. The Chance Had To Be There.

Me Is The Only One What Won't Be Gobbled Up Because Giants Is Never Eating Giants

I Was Glad My Father Was An Eye-smiler. It Meant He Never Gave Me A Fake Smile, Because It's Impossible To Make Your Eyes Twinkle If You Aren't Feeling Twinkly Yourself. A Mouth-smile Is Different. You Can Fake A Mouth-smile Any Time You Want, Simply By Moving Your Lips. I've Also Learned That A Real Mouth-smile Always Has An Eye-smile To Go With It, So Watch Out, I Say, When Someone Smiles At You With His Mouth But The Eyes Stay The Same. It's Sure To Be Bogus.