Our dourest parsons, who followed the nonconformist fashion of long extemporary prayers, always seemed to me to be bent on bullying God.

The real lost souls don't wear their hair long and play guitars. They have crew cuts and trained minds, sign on for research in biological warfare, and don't give their parents a moment's worry.

What a grand, higgledy-piggledy, sensible old place Norwich is!

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

To love to teach is one thing, to love those you teach is another.

We must beware the revenge of the starved senses, the embittered animal in its prison.

She was a handsome woman of forty-five and would remain so for many years.