Silence Sat In The Taxi, As Though

Princess Bibesco Delighted In A Semi-ideal World - A World Which, Though Having A Counterpart In Her Experience, Was To A Great Extent Brought Into Being By Her Own Temperament And, One Might Say, Flair.

At The Age Of Twelve I Was Finding The World Too Small: It Appeared To Me Like A Dull, Trim Back Garden, In Which Only Trivial Games Could Be Played.

Ireland Is A Great Country To Die Or Be Married In.

Grown-up People Seem To Be Busy By Clockwork... They Run Their Unswerving Course From Object To Object, Directed By Some Mysterious Inner Needle That Points All The Time To What They Must Do Next. You Can Only Marvel At Such Misuse Of Time.

Every Short Story Is An Experiment - What One Must Ask Is Not Only, Did It Come Off, But Was It, As An Experiment, Worth Making?