Michael Robartes remembers forgotten beauty and, when his arms wrap her round, he presses in his arms the loveliness which has long faded from the world. Not this. Not at all. I desire to press in my arms the loveliness which has not yet come into the world.

A nation is the same people living in the same place.

I am, a stride at a time. A very short space of time through very short time of space.

Too excited to be genuinely happy

The only decent people I ever saw at the racecourse were horses.

Signatures of all things I am here to read.

I'd love to have the whole place swimming in roses