In France That Is The One Rule,

Life Itself, She Thought, As She Went Upstairs To Dress For Dinner, Was Stranger Than Dreams And Far, Far More Disordered.

The Trouble Is That People Seem To Expect Happiness In Life. I Can't Imagine Why; But They Do. They Are Unhappy Before They Marry, And They Imagine To Themselves That The Reason Of Their Unhappiness Will Be Removed When They Are Married.

Paris In The Early Morning Has A Cheerful, Bustling Aspect, A Promise Of Delicious Things To Come, A Positive Smell Of Coffee And Croissants, Quite Peculiar To Itself. The People Welcome A New Day As If They Were Certain Of Liking It, The Shopkeepers Pull Up Their Blinds Serene In The Expectation Of Good Trade, The Workers Go Happily To Their Work, The People Who Have Sat Up All Night In Night-clubs Go Happily To Their Rest, The Orchestra Of Motor-car Horns, Of Clanking Trams, Of Whistling Policemen Tunes Up For The Daily Symphony, And Everywhere Is Joy.

Children Should Be Like Waffles--you Should Be Able To Throw The First One Away.

The Worst Of Being A Communist Is The Parties You May Go To Are - Well - Awfully Funny And Touching But Not Very Gay...i Don't See The Point Of Sad Parties, Do You? And Left-wing People Are Always Sad Because They Mind Dreadfully About Their Causes, And The Causes Are Always Going So Badly.