The odour of Burgundy, and the smell of French sauces, and the sight of clean napkins and long loaves, knocked as a very welcome visitor at the door of our inner man.

If he were a man of strong mind, it only gave him fits; but a person of mere average intellect it usually sent mad.

Cheese, like oil, makes too much of itself.

Life is a thing to be lived, not spent; to be faced, not ordered. Life is not a game of chess, the victory to the most knowing; it is a game of cards, one's hand by skill to be made the best of.

It is very strange, this domination of our intellect by our digestive organs. We cannot work, we cannot think, unless our stomach wills so. It dictates to us our emotions, our passions.

I should never make anything of a fisherman. I had not got sufficient imagination

It's really extraordinary what a variety of ways of loving there must be. We all do it as it was never done before.