Dead Men Tell No Tales,

I Wondered Why It Was That Places Are So Much Lovelier When One Is Alone.

I Suppose Sooner Or Later In The Life Of Everyone Comes A Moment Of Trial. We All Of Us Have Our Particular Devil Who Rides Us And Torments Us, And We Must Give Battle In The End.

Sometimes It’s A Sort Of Indulgence To Think The Worst Of Ourselves. We Say, ‘now I Have Reached The Bottom Of The Pit, Now I Can Fall No Further,’ And It Is Almost A Pleasure To Wallow In The Darkness. The Trouble Is, It’s Not True. There Is No End To The Evil In Ourselves, Just As There Is No End To The Good. It’s A Matter Of Choice. We Struggle To Climb, Or We Struggle To Fall. The Thing Is To Discover Which Way We’re Going.

Every Moment Was A Precious Thing, Having In It The Essence Of Finality.

What About The Hero Of The House On The Strand? What Did It Mean When He Dropped The Telephone At The End Of The Book? I Don't Really Know, But I Rather Think He Was Going To Be Paralysed For Life. Don't You?