You're Beautiful, Like A May Fly.

The First And Final Thing You Have To Do In This World Is To Last It And Not Be Smashed By It.

In Africa A Thing Is True At First Light And A Lie By Noon And You Have No More Respect For It Than For The Lovely, Perfect Wood-fringed Lake You See Across The Sun-baked Salt Plain. You Have Walked Across That Plain In The Morning And You Know That No Such Lake Is There. But Now It Is There Absolutely True, Beautiful And Believable.

Worry Destroys The Ability To Write. Ill Health Is Bad In The Ratio That It Produces Worry Which Attacks Your Subconscious And Destroys Your Reserves.

The Only Kind Of Writing Is Rewriting.

Listen," I Told Him. "don't Be So Tough So Early In The Morning. I'm Sure You've Cut Plenty Of People's Throats. I Haven't Even Had My Coffee Yet.