Bed Is The Perfect Climate.

The Air Is Like A Draught Of Wine. The Undertaker Cleans His Sign, The Hull Express Goes Off The Line, When It's Raspberry Time In Runcorn.

I Love Criticism Just So Long As It's Unqualified Praise.

As One Gets Older, One Discovers Everything Is Going To Be Exactly The Same With Different Hats On.

I Have Always Been Very Fond Of Them (drama Critics) . . . I Think It Is So Frightfully Clever Of Them To Go Night After Night To The Theatre And Know So Little About It.

Bed Is The Perfect Climate.