As I make my slow pilgrimage through the world, a certain sense of beautiful mystery seems to gather and grow.
When you get to my age life seems little more than one long march to and from the lavatory.
In every American there is an air of incorrigible innocence, which seems to conceal a diabolical cunning.
Chicago seems a big city instead of merely a large place.
It seems astonishing to be paid for indulging in pure pleasure. For me to go to Coburg is rather as if a trainspotter was sent for a few weeks to Swindon or a chocoholic asked on holiday by Green and Black.
Tennyson seems to be the patron saint of the wishy washies, which is perhaps why I admire him so much, not only as a poet, but as a man.
There are things I take sides about, like capital punishment, which it seems to me there is only one side about: it is evil. But there are two or three sides to sexual harassment, and the moment you get into particular cases, there is injustice in every conceivable direction. It's a mess.
I hope to have more than one main weapon. I have the Phenomenal Forearm as we're calling it now, the Calf Crusher - the Styles Clash is still available. I like to have a lot of alternative moves to hit people with, and whatever seems to work is what I'll go with.
Feminism is sort of like God. Many people profess to believe in it, but no one seems to be able to define it to everyone's satisfaction.
It seems to me if you want something badly enough, whether you're a man or a woman, you'll do whatever you have to do to get it.