Great restaurants are, of course, nothing but mouth-brothels. There is no point in going to them if one intends to keep one's belt buckled.

One can watch hours and hours of TV without actually losing interest, but, as with Chinese food, one is rarely left with much residue of nourishment.

At last, after innumerable glamorous and frightful years, mankind approaches a war which is totally predictable from beginning to end.

Talk isn't work. Work is when you have pages in the evening that you didn't have in the morning.

As Oscar Wilde should have said, when bad ideas have nowhere else to go, they emigrate to America and become university courses.

Words, isolated in the velvet of radio, took on a jeweled particularity. Television has quite the opposite effect: words are drowned in the visual soup in which they are obliged to be served.

The television critic, whatever his pretensions, does not labour in the same vineyard as those he criticizes; his grapes are all sour.