He's Completely Unspoiled By Failure.

Here Ends The Story Of A Ship, But There Will Always Be Other Ships, For We Are An Island Race. Through All Our Centuries, The Sea Has Ruled Our Destiny. There Will Always Be Other Ships And Men To Sail In Them. It Is These Men, In Peace Or War, To Whom We Owe So Much. Above All Victories, Beyond All Loss, In Spite Of Changing Values In A Changing World, They Give To Us, Their Countrymen, Eternal And Indomitable Pride.

Everybody Was Up To Something, Especially, Of Course, Those Who Were Up To Nothing.

That Strange Feeling We Had In The War. Have You Found Anything In Your Lives Since To Equal It In Strength? A Sort Of Splendid Carelessness It Was, Holding Us Together.

Dear 338171 (may I Call You 338?)

People Are Wrong When They Say Opera Is Not What It Used To Be. It Is What It Used To Be. That Is What's Wrong With It.