Now Autumn’s fire burns slowly along the woods and day by day the dead leaves fall and melt.

Autumn’s the mellow time.

If any foes of mine are there, I pardon every one: I hope that man and womankind will do the same by me.

I have been an ‘Official’ all my life, without the least turn for it. I never could attain a true official manner, which is highly artificial and handles trifles with ludicrously disproportionate gravity.

Writing is learning to say nothing, more cleverly each day.

She danced a jig, she sung a song that took my heart away.