Peace Is That State In Which Fear

I Believe That All Wisdom Consists In Caring Immensely For A Few Right Things, And Not Caring A Straw About The Rest.

Young Girls Passed Me With Romance Still In Their Eyes, And Others, A Little Older, With The Romance Dead.

I Would Have Been Content With Any Job However Thankless, In Any Quarter However Remote, If I Had A Chance Of Making A Corner Of The Desert Blossom And The Solitary Place Glad.

It Struck Me That Albania Was The Sort Of Place That Might Keep A Man From Yawning.

Wise Men Never Grow Up; Indeed, They Grow Younger, For They Lose The Appalling Worldly Wisdom Of Youth.