It Usually Takes Me A Year To

Time Is The River On Which The Leaves Of Our Thoughts Are Carried Into Oblivion.

The Difficulty Of Writing About Sex, For Women, Is That Sex Is Best When Not Thought About, Not Analysed.

My Mother Died Happily Of A Stroke In Her Seventies.

There Is Only One Real Sin And That Is To Persuade Oneself That The Second Best Is Anything But Second Best.

It Is The Mark Of Great People To Treat Trifles As Trifles And Important Matters As Important.