Towards Midnight The Rain Ceased And The

He Lost Himself In A Maze Of Thoughts That Were Rendered Vague By His Lack Of Words To Express Them. Frowning, He Tried Again.

My Father Was Very Musical, And Music Plays Quite A Large Part In My Life.

In India The Odd Thing Is That English Is This Almost Artificial Language Floating On The Surface Of A Place With About Fifty Other Languages. The Same Is True Of Nigeria But Even More So.

He Became Absorbed Beyond Mere Happiness As He Felt Himself Exercising Control Over Living Things. He Talked To Them, Urging Them, Ordering Them. Driven Back By The Tide, His Footprints Became Bays In Which They Were Trapped And Gave Him The Illusion Of Mastery.

It Wasn't Until I Was 37 That I Grasped The Great Truth That You've Got To Write Your Own Books And Nobody Else's, And Then Everything Followed From There.