But by the time that I had nothing left, I myself was the lightest thing of all for fate to get rid of.

death - a passage outside the range of imagination, but within the range of experience.

To set sail somewhere is more important than life itself.

Where a pack of monkeys had traveled over the road, the smell of them lingered for a long time in the air, a dry and stale, mousy smell.

I do not think that I could ever really love a woman who had not, at one time or another, been up on a broomstick.

I was young, and by instinct of self-preservation I had to collect my energy on something, if I were not to be whirled away with the dusk on the farm-roads, or the smoke on the plain. I begun in the evenings to write stories, fairy-tales, and romances, that would take my mind a long way off, to other countries and times.

I had a farm in Africa, at the foot of the Ngong Hills.