'We citizens of the world are neither famous nor spectacular. But
there is a slow fire burning within us, and it is time for our
latent energies to swell forth anew. It is time for us to reassert
ourselves. And it is our duty to remind our fellow creatures of
what they are fast forgetting, that true culture is universal.' In
this classic memoir Harold Acton offers a witty and vivid account
of the first thirty-five years of his life (1904-39): from a
boyhood among the dilettanti in Florence before the First World
War, through his friendships with some of the great writers of his
generation in Oxford and Paris, to his discovery of a spiritual
home in Peking. 'As if he were a latter-day Beckford or Horace
Walpole, people will long study his books if only to catch an echo
of his voice.' Alan Pryce-Jones, Independent
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