Conceit Is The Finest Armour A Man

It Is In Our Faults And Failings, Not In Our Virtues, That We Touch One Another And Find Sympathy. We Differ Widely Enough In Our Nobler Qualities. It Is In Our Follies That We Are At One.

I Like Cats.... When I Meet A Cat, I Say, "poor Pussy!" And Stoop Down And Tickle The Side Of Its Head; And The Cat Sticks Up Its Tail In A Rigid, Cast-iron Manner, Arches Its Back, And Wipes Its Nose Up Against My Trousers; And All Is Gentleness And Peace.

The Odour Of Burgundy, And The Smell Of French Sauces, And The Sight Of Clean Napkins And Long Loaves, Knocked As A Very Welcome Visitor At The Door Of Our Inner Man.

Think Of The Man Who First Tried German Sausage.

I Could Not Conjure Up One Melancholy Fancy Upon A Mutton Chop And A Glass Of Champagne.