In France That Is The One Rule,

I Think Housework Is Far More Tiring And Frightening Than Hunting Is, No Comparison, And Yet After Hunting We Had Eggs For Tea And Were Made To Rest For Hours, But After Housework People Expect One To Go On Just As If Nothing Special Had Happened.

Surely A King Who Loves Pleasure Is Less Dangerous Than One Who Loves Glory?

Paris In The Early Morning Has A Cheerful, Bustling Aspect, A Promise Of Delicious Things To Come, A Positive Smell Of Coffee And Croissants, Quite Peculiar To Itself. The People Welcome A New Day As If They Were Certain Of Liking It, The Shopkeepers Pull Up Their Blinds Serene In The Expectation Of Good Trade, The Workers Go Happily To Their Work, The People Who Have Sat Up All Night In Night-clubs Go Happily To Their Rest, The Orchestra Of Motor-car Horns, Of Clanking Trams, Of Whistling Policemen Tunes Up For The Daily Symphony, And Everywhere Is Joy.

Spring Came Late, But When It Came It Was Hand-in-hand With Summer, And Almost At Once Everything Was Baking And Warm, And In The Villages The People Danced Every Night On Concrete Dancing Floors Under The Plane Trees.

Children Should Be Like Waffles--you Should Be Able To Throw The First One Away.