If a man has any greatness in him, it comes to light, not in one flamboyant hour, but in the ledger of his daily work.
I fly swiftly. I fly high — south-southwest, over the Ngong Hills. I am relaxed. My right hand rests upon the stick in easy communication with the will and the way of the plane.
I could never tell where inspiration begins and impulse leaves off. I suppose the answer is in the outcome. If your hunch proves a good one, you were inspired; if it proves bad, you are guilty of yiel...
He shrugged and dusted dustless hands, one against the other. He
From the time I arrived in British East Africa at the indifferent age of four and went through the barefoot stage of early youth hunting wild pig with the Nandi, later training race-horses for a livin...
Each humid, tropic day is stillborn, and does not breathe, however lustily pregnant the night that gave it birth.
And still it was gone. Seeing it again could not be living it again. You can always rediscover an old path and wander over it, but the best yo an do then is say, 'Ah, yes, know this turning!' --or rem...
A word grows to a thought – a thought to an idea – an idea to an act. The change is slow, and the Present is a sluggish traveler loafing in the path Tomorrow wants to take.
Occasional gust of fretful
Love thy neighbour’ is less a pious injunction than a rule for survival. If you meet one in trouble, you stop — another time he may stop for you.
[I]t is no good anticipating regrets. Every tomorrow ought not to resemble every yesterday.
You can live a lifetime and, at the end of it, know more about other people than you know about yourself. You learn to watch other people, but you never watch yourself because you strive against lonel...
Work hard, trust in God, and keep your bowels open — Oliver Cromwell Well,
Toombo. Look at the roundness of your belly. Look at the heaviness of your legs!’ Toombo looks. ‘God makes fat birds and small birds, trees that are wide and trees that are thin, like wattle. He makes...
The rain feeds the seed, and the seed the mill. When the rain stops, the mill wheels stop — or, if they continue to turn, they grind despair for the man who owns them. My father owned them.
Look at a seed in the palm of a farmer’s hand. It can be blown away with a puff of breath and that is the end of it. But it holds three lives — its own, that of the man who may feed on its increase, a...
It is amazing what a lot of insect life goes on under your nose when you have got it an inch from the earth. I suppose it goes on in any case, but if you are proceeding on your stomach, dragging your...
I look at my yesterdays for months past, and find them as good a lot of yesterdays as anybody might want. I sit there in the firelight and see them all. The hours that made them were good, and so were...
How is it possible to bring order out of memory?
A domesticated lion is only an unnatural lion — and whatever is unnatural is untrustworthy.