Europeans Are Quarrelsome.

Even A Monotonously Undeviating Path Of Self-examination Does Not Necessarily Lead To Self-knowledge. I Stumble Towards My Grave Confused And Hurt And Hungry.

That's The Only Sense In Which I've Been Lucky: I Have The Kind Of Face To Which Cosmetics Could Be Applied.

If Sophistication Is A Matter Of Being In Control Of Our Primary Reactions, We May Now Be Sophisticated. At Least We Shall Be Fairly Confident Of Ourselves And May, With Any Luck, Be Confident Of Others. Our Object Will Be To Enjoy Our Selves. But To Make Sure That Our Names Are Permanently On The Cast List, It Will Be Advisable To Be Of Interest To Others. This Aim Must Never Be Confused With The Desire To Be Popular.

A Gentleman Doesn't Pounce He Glides. If A Woman Sits On A Piece Of Furniture Which Permits Your Sitting Beside Her, You Are Free To Regard This As An Invitation, Though Not An Unequivocal One.

When I Was Young, We Thought That Oscar Wilde Was A Great Nobleman Who Had Thrown His Life Away For Love. Nothing Could Be Less True. He Slept With East Enders Who Were Procured For Him By Lord Alfred Douglas. He Knew Them Only 'in Braille' - The Curtains Were Never Drawn Back In The Rooms In Oxford Where He Met Those Boys. It Was The Most Sordid Life You Can Imagine. And He Was Bleating About Love And Dragging The Fair Name Of Mr. Plato Into The Trial - After A Life Like That?