Vichy proves one thing: if you don't want to know how low your fellow citizens can fall, and crawl, don't lose a war.

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

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

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.

The great networks are there to prove that ideas can be canned like spaghetti. If everything ends up by tasting like everything else, is that not the evidence that it has been properly cooked?

People resent articulacy, as if articulacy were a form of vice.

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