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Dinner at the Huntercombes' possessed only two dramatic features - the wine was a farce and the food a tragedy.

There is, after all, no pleasure like that given by a woman who really wants to see you.

On the stage . . . masks are assumed with some regard to procedure; in everyday life, the participants act their parts without consideration either for suitability of scene or for the words spoken by the rest of the cast: the result is a general tendency for things to be brought to the level of farce even when the theme is serious enough.

One of the worst things about life is not how nasty the nasty people are. You know that already. It is how nasty the nice people can be.

[T]here is no greater sign of innate misery than a love of teasing.

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