We stared at the odd garment and wondered what it was for. 'What is it?' asked Larry at length. 'It's a bathing costume, of course,' said Mother. 'What on earth did you think it was?' 'It looks like a badly skinned whale,' said Larry, peering at it closely.

I can't be expected to produce deathless prose in an atmosphere of gloom and eucalyptus.

They were maps that lived, maps that one could study, frown over, and add to; maps, in short, that really meant something.

A house is not a home until it has a dog.

What fools we are, eh? What fools, sitting here in the sun, singing. And of love, too! I am too old for it and you are too young, and yet we waste our time singing about it. Ah, well, let's have a glass of wine, eh?

By neglecting our garden, we are storing up for ourselves, in the not very distant future, a world catastrophe as bad as any atomic war, and we are doing it with all the bland complacency of an idiot child chopping up a Rembrandt with a pair of scissors.

‎'All we need is a book,' roared Leslie; 'don't panic, hit 'em with a book.