My Youth Is Escaping Without Giving Me

You Should Not Want To Know The Things In People's Minds. If You Were Meant To Hear Them, They Would Be Said.

Truth Is So Impossible. Something Has To Be Done For It.

Most Of The Pleasure Of Making A Book Would Go If It Held Nothing To Be Shared By Other People. I Would Write For A Few Dozen People, And Sometimes It Seems That I Do So, But I Would Not Write For No-one.

People's Weaker Side Is Not Necessarily Their Truer Self.

Well, Buttermere, This Is A Day That Is Good To Live And Breathe In, That Makes A Man Feel In His Prime. Standing Here In Front Of My House, I Feel As Young As When I Moved Into It Thirty Years Ago, In The Year Eighteen Hundred And Fifty-nine. What Aged Man Would You Take Me To Be, As I Step As It Were Casually Into Your View?