We are not living in a private world of our own. Everything we say and do and think has its effect on everything around us.

I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a thoroughbred horse.

Love! Beyond measure — beyond death — it nearly kills. But one wouldn't have been without it.

From behind a wooden crate we saw a long black-muzzled nose poking round at us. We took him out-soft, wobbly, tearful; set him down on his four, as yet not quite simultaneous legs, and regarded him. He wandered a little round our legs, neither wagging his tail nor licking at our hands; then he looked up, and my companion said: "He's an angel!"

The young man who, at the end of September, 1924, dismounted from a taxicab in South Square, Westminster, was so unobtrusively American that his driver had some hesitation in asking for double his fare. The young man had no hesitation in refusing it.

The talked-about is always the last to hear the talk . . .

One's eyes are what one is, one's mouth is what one becomes.