Tea! Bless Ordinary Everyday Afternoon Tea!

Many Friends Have Said To Me, 'i Never Know When You Write Your Books, Because I've Never Seen You Writing, Or Even Seen You Go Away To Write.' I Must Behave Rather As Dogs Do When They Retire With A Bone; They Depart In A Secretive Manner And You Do Not See Them Again For An Odd Half Hour. They Return Self-consciously With Mud On Their Noses. I Do Much The Same.

Bitterness Leads Nowhere. It Turns Back On Itself. It Is The Eternal Cul-de-sac.

Sensationalism Dies Quickly, Fear Is Long-lived.

One Little Indian Boy Left All Alone; He Went And Hanged Himself And Then There Were None.

The Contemporary Historian Never Writes Such A True History As The Historian Of A Later Generation.