He said it was artificial respiration, but now I find I am to have his child.

The writer's life seethes within but not without.

Well, well, well, well. If it isn't fat, stinking billygoat Billy-Boy in poison. How art thou, thou globby bottle of cheap, stinking chip-oil? Come and get one in the yarbles, if you have any yarbles, you eunuch jelly thou.

Without class differences, England would cease to be the living theatre it is.

For no man is damned precisely because God hath not chosen him, because he is not elected, but because he is a sinner, and doth wilfully refuse the means of grace offered.

Only in England is the perversion of language regarded as a victory for democracy.

Literature ceases to be literature when it commits itself to moral uplift; it becomes moral philosophy or some such dull thing.