Washington is no place for a good actor. The competition from bad actors is too great.
He always had a chip on his shoulder that he was ready to use to kindle an argument.
Hanging is too good for a man who makes puns; he should be drawn and quoted.
The American arrives in Paris with a few French phrases he has culled from a conversational guide or picked up from a friend who owns a beret.
A human being is nothing but a story with skin around it.
He writes so well he makes me feel like putting my quill back in my goose.