My Big Fish Must Be Somewhere.

Something, Or Something Awful Or Something Wonderful Was Certain To Happen On Every Day In This Part Of Africa.

It Is One Thing To Be In The Proximity Of Death, To Know More Or Less What She Is, And It Is Quite Another Thing To Seek Her.

In Africa A Thing Is True At First Light And A Lie By Noon And You Have No More Respect For It Than For The Lovely, Perfect Wood-fringed Lake You See Across The Sun-baked Salt Plain. You Have Walked Across That Plain In The Morning And You Know That No Such Lake Is There. But Now It Is There Absolutely True, Beautiful And Believable.

It's Silly Not To Hope. It's A Sin He Thought.

Where Do The Noses Go? I Always Wondered Where The Noses Would Go.