Military people never seem to apologize for killing each other yet novelists feel ashamed for writing some nice inert paper book that is not certain to be read by anybody.

We went down into the silent garden. Dawn is the time when nothing breathes, the hour of silence. Everything is transfixed, only the light moves.

The task of the right eye is to peer into the telescope, while the left eye peers into the microscope.

Thousands of people know my flannel knickers, and though I know this may seem flirtatious, it is not. I am a saint.

I didn't have time to be anyone's muse... I was too busy rebelling against my family and learning to be an artist.

Wouldn't it be wonderful if I won a helicopter in a crossword puzzle competition? There is not much hope though I am afraid, as they never give such practical prizes.

I warn you, I refuse to be an object.