Why do born-again people so often make you wish they'd never been born the first time?

[On Malcolm Muggeridge:] He thinks he was knocked off his horse by God, like St. Paul on the road to Damascus. His critics think he simply fell off it from old age.

And what would happen to my illusion that I am a force for order in the home if I wasn't married to the only man north of the Tiber who is even untidier than I am?

I yield to no one in my admiration for the office as a social center, but it's no place actually to get any work done.

When it comes to housework the one thing no book of household management can ever tell you is how to begin. Or maybe I mean why.

An office party is not, as is sometimes supposed, the Managing Director's chance to kiss the tea-girl. It is the tea-girl's chance to kiss the Managing Director (however bizarre an ambition this may seem to anyone who has seen the Managing Director face on).

Does anybody who gave up smoking to save a pound a week have a pound at the end of the week? Not on your life.