A Great Artist Is Never Poor.

There Is Something About Safari Life That Makes You Forget All Your Sorrows And Feel As If You Had Drunk Half A Bottle Of Champagne - Bubbling Over With Heartfelt Gratitude For Being Alive. One Only Feels Really Free When One Can Go In Whatever Direction One Pleases Over The Plains, To Get To The River At Sundown And Pitch One's Camp, With The Knowledge That One Can Fall Asleep Beneath Other Trees, With Another View Before One, The Next Night.

What Is Man, When You Come To Think Upon Him, But A Minutely Set, Ingenious Machine For Turning With Infinite Artfulness, The Red Wine Of Shiraz Into Urine?

Where A Pack Of Monkeys Had Traveled Over The Road, The Smell Of Them Lingered For A Long Time In The Air, A Dry And Stale, Mousy Smell.

The Real Difference Between God And Human Beings Is That God Cannot Stand Continence. No Sooner Has He Created A Season Of A Year, Or A Time Of Day, Than He Wishes For Something Quite Different And Sweeps It All Away. And Human Beings Cleave To The Existing State Of Things. All Their Lives They Are Striving To Hold The Moment Fast, And Are Up Against A Force Majeure. Their Art Itself Is Nothing But The Attempt To Catch By All Means The One Particular Moment, One Mood, One Light, The Momentary Beauty Of One Woman Or One Flower, And Make It Everlasting.

Where The Storyteller Is Loyal, Eternally And Unswervingly Loyal To The Story, There, In The End, Silence Will Speak. Where The Story Has Been Betrayed, Silence Is But Emptiness. But We, The Faithful, When We Have Spoken Our Last Word, Will Hear The Voice Of Silence.