I go backwards and forwards, recapturing the past, wondering about the future—and, most unreasonably, I find myself longing for the past more than for the future.

And at last father flung the rug off as if it were hampering him and strode over to the table saying, 'cocoa, cocoa!'-- it might have been the most magnificent drink in the world; which, personally, I think it is.

It's odd how different a house feels when one is alone in it. It makes it easier to think rather private thoughts...

I know all about the facts of life, and I don't think much of them.