To Make The Most Of Christmas, Focus

Nearly Everything Possible Had Been Done To Spoil The Game: The Heavy Financial Interest; The Absurd Transfer And Player-selling System; The Lack Of Any Birth Or Residential Qualifications; The Absurd Publicity Given To Every Feature Of It By The Press; The Monstrous Partisanships Of The Crowds.

Childhood, Catching Our Imagination When It Is Fresh And Tender, Never Lets Go Of Us.

Those No-sooner-have-i-touched-the-pillow People Are Past My Comprehension. There Is Something Bovine About Them.

Perhaps It Would Be Better Not To Be A Writer, But If You Must, Then Write.

If There Is One Thing Left That I Would Like To Do, It's To Write Something Really Beautiful. And I Could Do It, You Know. I Could Still Do It.