I Couldn't Have Thought Of Her More.

Of Two Hearts One Is Always Warm And One Is Always Cold: The Cold Heart Is More Precious Than Diamonds: The Warm Heart Has No Value And Is Thrown Away.

When I Replied That I Loved Her Too In That Way, I Was The Liar, Not She, For I Never Lose The Consciousness Of Time: To Me The Present Is Never Here: It Is Always Last Year Or Next Week.

Its Typical Of Mexico, Of The Whole Human Race Perhaps — Violence In Favour Of An Ideal And Then The Ideal Lost But The Violence Just Going On.

Tea At College Was Served On Long Tables With An Urn At The End Of Each. Long Baguettes Of Bread, Three To A Table, Were Set Out With Meagre Portions Of Butter And Jam; The China Was Coarse To Withstand The Schoolboy-clutch And The Tea Strong. At The Hôtel De Paris I Was Astonished At The Fragility Of The Cups, The Silver Teapot, The Little Triangular Savoury Sandwiches, The éclairs Stuffed With Cream.

You Cannot Love Without Intuition.