Don't Talk To Me." "why Not?" "because

The Stories We Love Best Do Live In Us Forever.

Every Now And Then I Read A Poem That Does Touch Something In Me, But I Never Turn To Poetry For Solace Or Pleasure In The Way That I Throw Myself Into Prose.

The Mistake Ninety-nine Percent Of Humanity Made, As Far As Fats Could See, Was Being Ashamed Of What They Were; Lying About It, Trying To Be Somebody Else.

The Castle Grounds Were Gleaming In The Sunlight As Though Freshly Painted; The Cloudless Sky Smiled At Itself In The Smoothly Sparkling Lake, The Satin-green Lawns Rippled Occasionally In A Gentle Breeze: June Had Arrived.

They Heard The Click Of The Mail Slot And Flop Of Letters On The Doormat. "get The Mail, Dudley," Said Uncle Vernon From Behind His Paper. "make Harry Get It." "get The Mail, Harry." "make Dudley Get It." "poke Him With Your Smelting Stick, Dudley.