A hangover is the wrath of grapes.

[Completely bored by a country weekend, wiring to a friend:] For heaven's sake, rush me a loaf of bread, enclosing saw and file.

Nevil Shute's On the Beach is no Christmas carol, but it seems to me a remarkably fine novel, one which I read, in the peculiarly repulsive phrase, with my eyes glued to the page.

The only useful thing I ever learned in school was that if you spit on your eraser it erased ink.

I don't want to review books any more. It cuts in too much on my reading.

The best way to avoid a hangover is to stay drunk.

Maybe it is only I, but conditions are such these days, that if you use studiously correct grammar, people suspect you of homosexual tendencies.