Why Haven't We Seventy Lives? One Is

The Greatest Mercy, I Have Often Thought, Of The Mediterranean Coast Lies In Its Mosquitoes. Did We Not Suffer From Their Unwelcome Attention, We Could Not Bear Our Holidays To End.

Teachers Have Power. We May Cripple Them By Petty Economics; By Government Regulations, By The Foolish Criticism Of An Uninformed Press; But Their Power Exists For Good Or Evil.

The Damned Book I Am Writing Is Like The Driveling Of A Weak-kneed Sea Calf. If I Were Sufficiently Strong Minded, I Should Tear It Up An Start Again. But I Don't.

The Only Difficulty Is To Know What Bits To Choose And What To Leave Out. Novel-writing Is Not Creation, It Is Selection.

Oh, Time Betrays Us. Time Is The Great Enemy.