Chess has this in common with making poetry; that the desire for it comes upon the amateur in gusts.

I suppose this is the reason why diaries are so rarely kept nowadays- that nothing ever happens to anybody.

When late morning rolls around and you're feeling a bit out of sorts, don't worry; you're probably just a little eleven o'clockish.

Did I miss?" you asked. "You didn't exactly miss," said Pooh, "But you missed the balloon." "I'm so sorry," you said, and you fired again, and this time you hit the balloon and the air came slowly out, and Winnie-the-Pooh floated down to the ground.

To the uneducated, an A is just three sticks.

One does not argue about The Wind in the Willows.

Let's begin by taking a smallish nap or two.