It Is Well To Be Off With

All Autobiographies Are Lies. I Do Not Mean Unconscious, Unintentional Lies: I Mean Deliberate Lies.

Your Wits Can't Thicken In That Soft Moist Air, On Those White Springy Roads, In Those Misty Rushes And Brown Bogs, On Those Hillsides Of Granite Rocks And Magenta Heather. You've No Such Colours In The Sky, No Such Lure In The Distances, No Such Sadness In The Evenings. Oh The Dreaming! The Dreaming! The Torturing, Heart-scalding, Never Satisfying Dreaming, Dreaming, Dreaming, Dreaming!

Beware Of The Man Whose God Is In The Skies.

A Man Is Like A Phonograph With Half-a-dozen Records. You Soon Get Tired Of Them All; And Yet You Have To Sit At Table Whilst He Reels Them Off To Every New Visitor.

The Notion That Disarmament Can Put A Stop To War Is Contradicted By The Nearest Dogfight.