"door, something neither English nor American. "What do you think!" she exclaimed, coming in one morning as I was busy writing. "She's got a little i… - William McFee

"And what are those things at all?" demands my companion, diverted for a moment from the flowers. She nods towards a mass of dull-green affairs piled on mats or being lifted from big vans. She is a Cockney and displays surprise when she is told those things are bananas. She shrugs and turns again to the musk-roses, and forgets. But to me, as the harsh, penetrating odor of the green fruit cuts across the heavy perfume of the flowers, comes a picture of the farms in distant Colombia or perhaps Costa Rica. There is nothing like an odor to stir memories.

Responsibility's like a string we can only see the middle of. Both ends are out of sight.

A young man must let his ideas grow, not be continually rooting them up to see how they are getting on.