What Is Man, When You Come To

A Great Artist Is Never Poor.

I Do Not Know If You Remember The Tale Of The Girl Who Saves The Ship Under Mutiny By Sitting On The Powder Barrel With Her Lighted Torch... And All The Time Knowing That It Is Empty? This Has Seemed To Me A Charming Image Of The Women Of My Time. There They Were, Keeping The World In Order... By Sitting On The Mystery Of Life, And Knowing Themselves That There Was No Mystery.

It Is More Than Their Land That You Take Away From The People, Whose Native Land You Take. It Is Their Past As Well, Their Roots And Their Identity. If You Take Away The Things That They Have Been Used To See And Will Be Expecting To See, You May, In A Way, As Well Take Their Eyes.

The Cure For Anything Is Salt Water: Sweat, Tears Or The Sea.

There Was A Place In The Hills, On The First Ridge In The Game Reserve, That I Myself At The Time When I Thought That I Was To Live And Die In Africa, Had Pointed Out To Denys As My Future Burial-place. In The Evening, While We Sat And Looked At The Hills From My House, He Remarked That Then He Would Like To Be Buried There Himself As Well. Since Then, Sometimes When We Drove Out In The Hills, Denys Had Said: "let Us Drive As Far As Our Graves.