Kill The Pig! Cut His Throat! Kill

People Don't Help Much.

Nothing Is So Impenetrable As Laughter In A Language You Don't Understand.

Kill The Pig. Cut Her Throat. Spill Her Blood.

For A Small Island, The Place Is Remarkably Diverse. Writers Tend To See Things From Their Own Points Of View, Looking In One Direction Very Much.

I Play The Piano Passionately And Inaccurately. Indeed, I Worked Out The Other Day That Of My Seventy-five Years; I Have Spent At Least One Year Sitting On A Piano Stool.