As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow.

Friend, of my infinite dreams Little enough endures; Little howe'er it seems, It is yours, all yours.

I read the newspaper avidly. It is my one form of continuous fiction.

When you get to my age life seems little more than one long march to and from the lavatory.

Readjusting is a painful process, but most of us need it at one time or another.

Very often a change of self is needed more than a change of scene.