The past is so reliable, so delightful and the best place to live.

New Zealand is a country of thirty thousand million sheep, three million of whom think they are human.

I drift along, thinking about the past a great deal. The past is so reliable, so delightful, and the best place to live. I end up there quite often, you know; it's very comfortable and dependable.

The truth is deafening, no matter how softly it is spoken.

Most of my contemporaries at school entered the World of Business, the logical destiny of bores.

Everyone had a Japanese maple, although after Pearl Harbor most of these were patriotically poisoned, ringbarked and extirpated.

If you have to explain satire to someone, you might as well give up.