Freddie experienced the sort of abysmal soul-sadness which afflicts one of Tolstoy’s Russian peasants when, after putting in a heavy day’s work strangling his father, beating his wife, and dropping the baby into the city’s reservoir, he turns to the cupboards, only to find the vodka bottle empty.
Sin is geographical.
Cheer up, Crips, and keep smiling. That’s the thing to do. If you go through life with a smile on your face, you’ll be amazed how many people will come up to you and say ‘What the hell are you grinning about? What’s so funny?’ Make you a lot of new friends.
Musical comedy is the Irish stew of drama. Anything may be put into it, with the certainty that it will improve the general effect.
That is all, Augustus,′ she said, and dismissed me with a gesture of loathing, as if I had been a green-fly that had fallen short of even the very moderate level of decency of the average run-of-the-mill green fly.
A man who can set out in a cab for a fancy-dress ball and not get there is manifestly a poop of no common order.
The fascination of shooting as a sport depends almost wholly on whether you are at the right or wrong end of the gun.
Every author really wants to have letters printed in the papers. Unable to make the grade, he drops down a rung of the ladder and writes novels.
There is no surer foundation for a beautiful friendship than a mutual taste in literature.
It is no use telling me there are bad aunts and good aunts. At the core, they are all alike. Sooner or later, out pops the cloven hoof.
I always advise people never to give advice.
The least thing upset him on the links. He missed short putts because of the uproar of the butterflies in the adjoining meadows.
It was one of the dullest speeches I ever heard. The Agee woman told us for three quarters of an hour how she came to write her beastly book, when a simple apology was all that was required.
The voice of Love seemed to call to me, but it was a wrong number.
It was a confusion of ideas between him and one of the lions he was hunting in Kenya that had caused A. B. Spottsworth to make the obituary column. He thought the lion was dead, and the lion thought it wasn’t.
What’s the use of a great city having temptations if fellows don’t yield to them?
Half a league Half a league Half a league onward With a hey-nonny-nonny And a hot cha-cha.