Claudia's the sort of girl who goes through life holding onto the sides.

There seems to be a peculiar and particular tie between men who have been drunk together.

Those who live on vanity must, not unreasonably, expect to die of mortification.

Optimism is the last resort of those in deep despair. There can't be any optimists in heaven.

Evil and laughter cannot co-exist.

Men were made for war. Without it they wandered greyly about, getting under the feet of the women, who were trying to organize the really important things of life.

I have frequently thought that the dead should be buried with all their belongings. It seems weirdly perverse that their clothes should still be here when the people you love best in the world have gone.