I can't bare you when you're not amusing.

I can't bare you when you're not amusing.

Where can we hide in fair weather, we orphans of the storm?

I am suing Lord Beaverbrook for libel and hope for some lovely tax-free money in damages. He has very conveniently told some lies about me.

We cherish our friends not for their ability to amuse us, but for ours to amuse them...

Limbo is the place. In Limbo one has natural happiness without the beatific vision; no harps; no communal order; but wine and conversation and imperfect, various humanity. Limbo for the unbaptized, for the pious heathen, the sincere sceptic.

It doesn't matter what people call you unless they call you pigeon pie and eat you up.