"On a sheep-cropped knoll under the elm trees we ate the strawberries and drank the wine [Château Peyraguey] - as Sebastian promised, they were delicious together - and we lit fat, Turkish cigarettes and lay on our backs, Sebastian's eyes on the leaves above him, mine on his profile, while the blue-grey smoke rose, untroubled by any wind, to the blue-green shadows of foliage, and the sweet scent of tobacco merged with the sweet summer scents around us and the fumes of the sweet, golden wine seemed to lift us a finger's breadth above the turf and hold us suspended...
"Just the place to bury a crock of gold," said Sebastian. I should like to bury something precious in every place where I've been happy and then, when I was old and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember."
Brideshead Revisited, 1945
"It was a bleak period of present privation and threatening disaster -- the period of soya beans and Basic English -- and in consequence the book is infused with a kind of gluttony, for food and wine, for the splendours of the recent past, and for rhetorical and ornamental language which now, with a full stomach, I f