Flatter me, but delicately, please, for I am fastidious.
If I had found the words I was looking for, I would not have read so much.
A laughing Lear would be monstrous. Not so a laughing Romeo and Juliet.
The Lady: a fluty voice, sensible shoes, a melancholy sense of living by rules few still remember.
I would like to be a figment of my own imagination, but belly and bowels will not permit.
Journalism never admits that nothing much is happening.