Yes; Quaint And Curious War

He Looked And Smelt Like Autumn's Very Brother, His Face Being Sunburnt To Wheat-colour, His Eyes Blue As Corn-flowers, His Sleeves And Leggings Dyed With Fruit-stains, His Hands Clammy With The Sweet Juice Of Apples, His Hat Sprinkled With Pips, And Everywhere About Him The Sweet Atmosphere Of Cider Which At Its First Return Each Season Has Such An Indescribable Fascination For Those Who Have Been Born And Bred Among The Orchards.

Everybody Is So Talented Nowadays That The Only People I Care To Honor As Deserving Real Distinction Are Those Who Remain In Obscurity.

I Am The Family Face; Flesh Perishes, I Live On.

Of Love It May Be Said, The Less Earthly The Less Demonstrative. In Its Absolutely Indestructible Form It Reaches A Profundity In Which All Exhibition Of Itself Is Painful.

You Concede Nothing To Me And I Have To Concede Everything To You.