I love the chill October days, when the brown leaves lie thick and sodden underneath your feet ... the evenings in late autumn time, when the white mist creeps across the fields, making it seem as though old Earth, feeling the night air cold to its poor bones, were drawing ghostly bedclothes round its withered limbs.

Life works upon a compensating balance, and the happiness we gain in one direction we lose in another.

It is well we cannot see into the future. There are few boys of fourteen who would not feel ashamed of themselves at forty.

Conceit is the finest armour a man can wear.

It always does seem to me that I am doing more work than I should do. It is not that I object to the work, mind you; I like work: it fascinates me. I can sit and look at it for hours.

Life will always remain a gamble, with prizes sometimes for the imprudent, and blanks so often to the wise.

It is impossible to enjoy idling thoroughly unless one has plenty of work to do.