We All Know That Prime Ministers Are

The Revenge Of An Elder Sister May Be Long In Coming, But, Like A South-eastern Express, It Arrives In Its Own Good Time.

Life Is Full Of Its Disappointments, And I Suppose The Art Of Being Happy Is To Disguise Them As Illusions.

People Talk Vaguely About The Innocence Of A Little Child, But They Take Mighty Good Care Not To Let It Out Of Their Sight For Twenty Minutes.

I Love Americans, But Not When They Try To Talk French. What A Blessing It Is That They Never Try To Talk English.

There Was Something Alike Terrifying And Piteous In The Spectacle Of These Frail Old Morsels Of Humanity Consecrating Their Last Flickering Energies To The Task Of Making Each Other Wretched. Hatred Seemed To Be The One Faculty Which Had Survived In Undiminished Vigor Where All Else Was Dropping Into Ordered And Symmetrical Decay.