I have always admired the Esquimaux (Eskimos). One fine day a delicious meal is cooked for dear old mother, and then she goes walking away over the ice, and doesn't come back.

But I know human nature, my friend, and I tell you that, suddenly confronted with the possibility of being tried for murder, the most innocent person will lose his head and do the most absurd things.

I often wonder why the whole world is so prone to generalise. Generalisations are seldom if ever true and are usually utterly inaccurate.

Who is there who has not felt a sudden startled pang at reliving an old experience or feeling an old emotion?

One of the luckiest things that can happen to you in life is, I think, to have a happy childhood.

Time does not dispose of a question - it only presents it anew in a different guise.

Does the real thing ever have the perfection of a stage performance?