Trust Your Instincts. If You Have No

The Theatre Should Be Treated With Respect. The Theatre Is A Wonderful Place, A House Of Strange Enchantment, A Temple Of Illusion. What It Most Emphatically Is Not And Never Will Be Is A Scruffy, Ill-lit, Fumed-oak Drill Hall Serving As A Temporary Soap Box For Political Propaganda.

Marriage Is The Aftermath Of Love.

At Twelve Noon, The Natives Swoon And No Further Work Is Donebut Mad Dogs And Englishmen, Go Out In The Midday Sun.

Wit Is Like Caviar - It Should Be Served In Small Portions And Not Spread About Like Marmalade.

I See Her As One Great Stampede Of Lips Directed At The Nearest Derriere.