My Small Boat

Hope
No faith in the hour of betrayal
No scorning of lions’ jaws,
No heart of grace in the battle-field,
No faith in a faithless cause,
No hope in the days of bondage
Has ever more valiant shone
Than the hope that hopes for a taxi,
When the last bus has gone.

Men do not differ much about what things they will call evils; they differ enormously about what evils they will call excusable.

You are the descendant of a tiny cell of primordial protoplasm washed up on an empty beach three and a half billion years ago. You are the blind and arbitrary product of time, chance, and natural forces. You are a mere grab-bag of atomic particles, a conglomeration of genetic substance. You exist on a tiny [...]

The main problem with punctuality is that there is rarely anyone there to appreciate it.

Give me books, fruit, French wine and fine weather and a little music out of doors, played by someone I do not know.

In a great business there is nothing so fatal as cunning management.