People In Love, In Whom Every Sense

Nothing, That Is Say No One, Can Be Such An Inexorable Tour-conductor As One's Own Conscience Or Sense Of Duty, If One Allows Either The Upper Hand: The Self-bullying That Goes On In The Name Of Sight-seeing Is Grievous.

Good-byes Breed A Sort Of Distaste For Whomever You Say Good-bye To; This Hurts, You Feel, This Must Not Happen Again.

The Process Of Reading Is Reciprocal; The Book Is No More Than A Formula, To Be Furnished Out With Images Out Of The Reader's Mind.

The Innocent Are So Few That Two Of Them Seldom Meet - When They Do Meet, Their Victims Lie Strewn All Round.

What I Have Found Is, Anything One Keeps Hidden Should Now And Then Be Hidden Somewhere Else.