If One Is Too Lazy To Think,

Fallen Leaves Lying On The Grass In The November Sun Bring More Happiness Than The Daffodils.

Marriage Is The Permanent Conversation Between Two People Who Talk Over Everything And Everyone Until Death Breaks The Record.

There Is Immunity In Reading, Immunity In Formal Society, In Office Routine, In The Company Of Old Friends And In The Giving Of Officious Help To Strangers, But There Is No Sanctuary In One Bed From The Memory Of Another. The Past With Its Anguish Will Break Through Every Defense-line Of Custom And Habit; We Must Sleep And Therefore We Must Dream.

We Are All Serving A Life Sentence In The Dungeon Of The Self.

It Is A Consolation Of Human Life That The Sick Forget What It Is Like To Feel Well, Or The Miserable To Be Happy.