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.
It was loud in spots and less loud in other spots, and it had that quality which I have noticed in all violin solos of seeming to last much longer than it actually did.
I’m all for rational enjoyment, and so forth, but I think a fellow makes himself conspicuous when he throws soft-boiled eggs at the electric fan.
A little bit added to what you’ve already got gives you a little bit more.
The real objection to the great majority of cats is their insufferable air of superiority.
You would not enjoy Nietzsche, sir. He is fundamentally unsound.
I marmaladed a slice of toast with something of a flourish and I don’t suppose I have ever come much closer to saying ‘Tra la la’ as I did the lathering for I was feeling in mid season form this morning.