I remember her telling me once that rabbits were the gnomes in attendance to the Fairy Queen and that the stars were God’s daisy chain. Perfect rot, of course.
Well, you certainly are the most wonderfully woolly baa-lamb that ever stepped.
I love writing. I never feel really comfortable unless I am either actually writing or have a story going. I could not stop writing.
Many a man may look respectable, and yet be able to hide at will behind a spiral staircase.
In a series of events, all of which had been a bit thick, this, in his opinion, achieved the maximum of thickness.
Few of them were to be trusted within reach of a trowel and a pile of bricks.
I attribute my whole success in life to a rigid observance of the fundamental rule – Never have yourself tattooed with any woman’s name, not even her initials.
I may as well tell you, here and now, that if you are going about the place thinking things pretty, you will never make a modern poet. Be poignant, man, be poignant!
In every romance you have to budget for the occasional dust-up.
It is not the being paid money in advance that jars the sensitive artist: it is the having to work.
As a child of eight Mr. Trout had once kissed a girl of six under the mistletoe at a Christmas party, but there his sex life had come to abrupt halt.
I could see that, if not actually disgruntled, he was far from being gruntled.
I always strive, when I can, to spread sweetness and light. There have been several complaints about it.
It is the glorious uncertainty of golf that makes it the game it is.
However devoutly a girl may worship the man of her choice, there always comes a time when she feels an irresistible urge to haul off and let him have it in the neck.
It was my Uncle George who discovered that alcohol was a food well in advance of modern medical thought.
She had a penetrating sort of laugh. Rather like a train going into a tunnel.
Well, you know what the Fulham Road’s like. If your top-hat blows off into it, it has about as much chance as a rabbit at a dogshow.
Her pupils were at once her salvation and her despair. They gave her the means of supporting life, but they made life hardly worth supporting.
In all crises of human affairs there are two broad courses open to a man. He can stay where he is or he can go elsewhere.