He Spends His Life Explaining From His

Hors D'oeuvres Have Always A Pathetic Interest For Me; They Remind Me Of One's Childhood That One Goes Through Wondering What The Next Course Is Going To Be Like - And During The Rest Of The Menu One Wishes One Had Eaten More Of The Hors D'oeuvres.

Every Reformation Must Have Its Victims. You Can’t Expect The Fatted Calf To Share The Enthusiasm Of The Angels Over The Prodigal’s Return.

Children Are Given Us To Discourage Our Better Emotions.

You Needn't Tell Me That A Man Who Doesn't Love Oysters And Asparagus And Good Wines Has Got A Soul, Or A Stomach Either. He's Simply Got The Instinct For Being Unhappy Highly Developed.

The Censorious Said She Slept In A Hammock And Understood Yeats's Poems, But Her Family Denied Both Stories.