A Bloody Good Thing, But Too Late.

I Will Accept Anything In The Theatre . . . Provided It Amuses Or Moves Me. But If It Does Neither, I Want To Go Home.

The Stately Homes Of England, How Beautiful They Stand, To Prove The Upper Classes, Have Still The Upper Hand.

Having To Read Footnotes Resembles Having To Go Downstairs To Answer The Door While In The Midst Of Making Love.

My Body Has Certainly Wandered A Good Deal, But I Have An Uneasy Suspicion That My Mind Has Not Wandered Enough.

Mad Dogs And Englishmen Go Out In The Mid-day Sun.