The Only Rule I Have Found To

The Greatest Horrors Of Our World Are Committed By People Who Are Totally Sincere.

Murderers Have Usually Killed The One Person In The World That Was Bugging Them And They're Usually Quite Peaceful And Agreeable.

Check-ups Are, In My Experience, A Grave Mistake; All They Do Is Allow The Quack Of Your Choice To Tell You That You Have Some Sort Of Complaint That You Were Far Happier Not Knowing About.

The People Look Forbidding, Solemn, Marked By That Impossible Ideal, Communism, Which, Like Christianity, Seemed To Demand Too Much Of Humanity And, Falling Into The Wrong Hands, Led Too Easily To Horrible Brutality.

I'd Been Told Of All The Things You're Meant To Feel When Your Father Dies. Sudden Freedom, Growing Up, The End Of Dependence, The Step Into The Sunlight When No One Is Taller Than You And You're In No One's Shadow. I Know What I Felt. Lonely.