There was a wonderful atmosphere of gentle age, a smell of flowers and beeswax, sweet yet faintly sour and musty; a smell that makes you feel very tender towards the past.

Stew's so comforting on a rainy day.

... for I know I shall be interrupted-- I shall want to be, really, because life is too exciting to sit still for long.

I was wandering around as usual, in my unpleasantly populated sub-conscious.

And who says you always have to understand things? You can like them without understanding them -- like 'em better sometimes.

Rose doesn’t like the flat country, but I always did – flat country seems to give the sky such a chance.

What is it about the English countryside — why is the beauty so much more than visual? Why does it touch one so?