Christmas is a season not only of rejoicing but of reflection.

In handing over the Government of India to these so-called political classes, we are handing over to men of straw, of whom, in a few years, no trace will remain.

And wherever men are fighting against barbarism, tyranny, and massacre, for freedom, law, and honour, let them remember that the fame of their deeds, even though they themselves be exterminated, may perhaps be celebrated as long as the world rolls round.

I feel devoutly thankful to have been born fond of writing.

Golf. Trying to knock a tiny ball into an even smaller hole with implements ill suited to the purpose.

I could not help reflecting that the bullet which had struck the chestnut [horse] had certainly passed within a foot of my head. So at any rate I had been 'under fire.' That was something.

Already by 1900 I could boast I had written as many books as Moses.