Your talk," I said, "is surely the handiwork of wisdom because not one word of it do I understand.

My father...was a man who understood all dogs thoroughly and treated them like human beings.

Do you know what I am going to tell you, he said with his wry mouth, a pint of plain is your only man. Notwithstanding this eulogy, I soon found that the mass of plain porter bears an unsatisfactory relation to its toxic content and I subsequently became addicted to brown stout in bottle, a drink which still remains the one that I prefer the most despite the painful and blinding fits of vomiting which a plurality of bottles has often induced in me.

Hell goes round and round. In shape it is circular, and by nature it is interminable, repetitive, and nearly unbearable.

I suppose we all have our recollections of our earlier holidays, all bristling with horror.

Waiting for the German verb is surely the ultimate thrill.

What you think is the point is not the point at all but only the beginning of the sharpness.