It Has Been The Dream Of Very

I Hear It Still. As I Lay Down My Pen And Take To My Bed, I Am Aware Of The Bow Being Drawn Across The Bridge And The Music Rises Into The Night Sky. It Is Far Away And Barely Audible - But There It Is! A Pizzicato. Then A Tremelo. The Style Is Unmistakable. It Is Sherlock Holmes Who Is Playing. It Must Be. I Hope With All My Heart That He Is Playing For Me . . .

It's Funny How Things Work Out Sometimes.

Whatever You Say, Old Boy. Just Look After Yourself. And Whatever You Do, Don't Swallow The Gum!

He Died Fighting For What He Believed In.

I Vividly Remember Being 14. That Was The Age When I Started To Get Happy: I Started Being A Writer And Stopped Being A Loser.