I believe I once considerably scandalized her by declaring that clear soup was a more important factor in life than a clear conscience.

There was something alike terrifying and piteous in the spectacle of these frail old morsels of humanity consecrating their last flickering energies to the task of making each other wretched. Hatred seemed to be the one faculty which had survived in undiminished vigor where all else was dropping into ordered and symmetrical decay.

The revenge of an elder sister may be long in coming, but, like a South-Eastern express, it arrives in its own good time.

Great Socialist statesmen aren't made, they're still-born.

Find yourself a cup; the teapot is behind you. Now tell me about hundreds of things.

Sophie Chattel-Monkheim was a Socialist by conviction and a Chattel-Monkheim by marriage.

You needn't tell me that a man who doesn't love oysters and asparagus and good wines has got a soul, or a stomach either. He's simply got the instinct for being unhappy highly developed.