Tea would arrive, the cakes squatting on cushions of cream, toast in a melting shawl of butter, cups agleam and a faint wisp of steam rising from the teapot shawl.

A house is not a home until it has a dog.

There is no first world and third world. There is only one world, for all of us to live and delight in.

All over the world the wildlife that I write about is in grave danger. It is being exterminated by what we call the progress of civilization.

When man continues to destroy nature, he saws the very branch on which he sits since the rational protection of nature is at the same time the protection of mankind

Zoos should concentrate more on the preservation side of things.

In conservation, the motto should always be 'never say die'.

If naturalists go to heaven (about which there is considerable ecclesiastical doubt), I hope that I will be furnished with a troop of kakapo to amuse me in the evening instead of television.

My childhood in Corfu shaped my life. If I had the craft of Merlin, I would give every child the gift of my childhood.

They were maps that lived, maps that one could study, frown over, and add to; maps, in short, that really meant something.

Gradually the magic of the island [Corfu] settled over us as gently and clingingly as pollen.

Fall in love again and again.In life, love is the currency, spend it as much you can for an enormous gain.

Since Shakespeare had a feel for revolutionary rhetoric, let’s all cry: “Peace, freedom and liberty!

Learning gives creativity Creativity leads to thinking Thinking provides knowledge Knowledge makes you great.

I like to push characters to extremes so they have to make really tough decisions and there is no life more extreme than that of an athlete.

I am living proof that money cannot buy friendship.

There's a bootleg album that was recorded when I was 14 or 15, a compilation of things live at different clubs. Songs like Girl from Ipanema and Cry Me A River. I don't know what the title of it is.

Action is just one of my skills.

It seems inevitable that the magic of the written word will fade.

I felt like I was hobbling, like one oof the old crones from Act I of Macbeth - God knows my hair felt scraggy enough that I must have looked the part.

It was Richepin who said somewhere, 'The love of art means loss of real love'... True, but on the other hand, real love makes you disgusted with art.