I'm one of the blind alleys off the main road of procreation.

that is not the last word; it is not even an apt word; it is a dead word from ten years back.

I should like to bury something precious in every place where I've been happy and then, when I'm old and ugly and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember.

I am annoyed to find myself continually described by people whom I have never set eyes on as bad-tempered.

If a thing's worth doing at all, it's worth doing well.

Beavers bred in captivity, inhabiting a concrete pool, will, if given the timber, fatuously go through all the motions of damming an ancestral stream.

At first it was impressive, but after half and hour deadly monotonous. It was like everything German - overdone.