A Great Artist Is Never Poor.

And I Had By Now Become Used To The Idea Of Witchcraft, It Seemed A Reasonable Thing, So Many Things Are About, At Night, In Africa.

Write A Little Every Day, Without Hope, Without Despair.

The Lime Trees Were In Bloom. But In The Early Morning Only A Faint Fragrance Drifted Through The Garden, An Airy Message, An Aromatic Echo Of The Dreams During The Short Summer Night.

One May Take Many Liberties With God Which One Cannot Take With Men.

I Had A Farm In Africa, At The Foot Of The Ngong Hills.