You Are A Queen. Let Mine Be

Bless You, My Darling, And Remember You Are Always In The Heart - Oh Tucked So Close There Is No Chance Of Escape - Of Your Sister.

Regret Is An Appalling Waste Of Energy, And No One Who Intends To Be A Writer Can Afford To Indulge In It.

Winter Is A Terrible Time For Thin People - Terrible! Why Should It Hound Them Down, Fasten On Them, Worry Them So? Why Not, For A Change, Take A Nip, Take A Snap At The Fat Ones Who Wouldn't Notice? But No! It Is Sleek, Warm, Cat-like Summer That Makes The Fat One's Life A Misery. Winter Is All For Bones.

Ach, Tchekov! Why Are You Dead? Why Can’t I Talk To You In A Big Darkish Room At Late Evening—where The Light Is Green From The Waving Trees Outside? I’d Like To Write A Series Of Heavens: That Would Be One.

I Must Say, I Hate Money. But It's The Lack Of It I Hate Most.