Folks with most to complain about seldom complain most.

Always, it is the poor people who pay. And always, it is the poor people's women who pay the most.

The mind has a mind of its own. It shows us pictures. Pictures of the past and the might-one-day-be. This mind's mind exerts its own will, too, and has its own voice.

Two people who are a little bit deluded in each other's favour. That's what love is, isn't it?

I still haven't quite got used to eating live fish.

Italians give their city sexes, and they all agree that the sex for a particular city is quite correct, but none of them can explain why. I love that. London's middle-aged and male, respectably married but secretly gay.

When insolvent, pack minimally, with a valise tough enough to be thrown onto a London pavement from a first- or second-floor window. Insist on hotel rooms no higher.