Lord, Reserve For Me A Crown, And

Approval Of What Is Approved Of Is As False As A Well-kept Vow.

Norfolk Would Not Be Norfolk Without A Church Tower On The Horizon Or Round A Corner Up A Lane. We Cannot Spare A Single Norfolk Church. When A Church Has Been Pulled Down The Country Seems Empty Or Is Like A Necklace With A Jewel Missing.

Childhood Is Measured Out By Sounds And Smells And Sights, Before The Dark Hour Of Reason Grows.

What The Londoner Sees In His Mind's Eye Is That Cluster Of Towers And Pinnacles Seen From Pentonville Hill And Outlined Against A Foggy Sunset, And The Great Arc Of Barlow's Train Shed Gaping To Devour Incoming Engines, And The Sudden Burst Of Exuberant Gothic Of The Hotel Seen From Gloomy Judd Street.

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