One of the delights known to age, and beyond the grasp of youth, is that of Not Going.

The people who pretend that dying is rather like strolling into the next room always leave me unconvinced. Death, like birth, must be a tremendous event.

To put failure behind you, face up to it.

Marriage is like paying an endless visit in your worst clothes.

But the point is, now, at this moment, or any moment, we're only cross-sections of our real selves. What we really are is the whole stretch of ourselves, all our time, and when we come to the end of this life, all those selves, all our time, will be us - the real you, the real me. And then perhaps we'll find ourselves in another time, which is only another kind of dream.

Our trouble is that we drink too much tea. I see in this the slow revenge of the Orient, which has diverted the Yellow River down our throats.

One of the delights known to age, and beyond the grasp of youth, is that of Not Going.