Why it should be such an effort to write to the people one loves I can't imagine. It's none at all to write to those who don't really count.

Winter is a terrible time for thin people - terrible! Why should it hound them down, fasten on them, worry them so? Why not, for a change, take a nip, take a snap at the fat ones who wouldn't notice? But no! It is sleek, warm, cat-like summer that makes the fat one's life a misery. Winter is all for bones.

England is merely an island of beef swimming in a warm gulf stream of gravy.

Oh, how quickly things changed! Why didn't happiness last for ever? For ever wasn't a bit too long.

Why! Why! Why is the middle-class so stodgy - so utterly without a sense of humor?

I have such a horror of telegrams that ask me how I am!! I always want to reply dead.

There are always these moments in life when the limits of suffering are reached and we become heroes and heroines.