For gin, in cruel sober truth, supplies the fuel for flaming youth.

Christmas is at our throats again.

What I adore is supreme professionalism. I’m bored by writers who can write only when it’s raining.

Criticism and Bolshevism have one thing in common. They both seek to pull down that which they could never build.

That strange feeling we had in the war. Have you found anything in your lives since to equal it in strength? A sort of splendid carelessness it was, holding us together.

Familiarity breeds contempt, but without a little familiarity it's impossible to breed anything.

Your motivation is your pay packet on Friday. Now get on with it.