There are plenty of clever young writers. But there is too much genius, not enough talent.

A loving wife will do anything for her husband except stop criticizing him and trying to improve him.

Britain, which in the years immediately before this war was rapidly losing such democratic virtues as it possessed, is now being bombed and burned into democracy.

We plan, we toil, we suffer - in the hope of what? A camel-load of idol's eyes? The title deeds of Radio City? The empire of Asia? A trip to the moon? No, no, no, no. Simply to wake just in time to smell coffee and bacon and eggs.

Nearly everything possible had been done to spoil the game: the heavy financial interest; the absurd transfer and player-selling system; the lack of any birth or residential qualifications; the absurd publicity given to every feature of it by the press; the monstrous partisanships of the crowds.

Much of writing might be described as mental pregnancy with successive difficult deliveries.

Comedy, we may say, is society protecting itself - with a smile.