But why, oh why, do the wrong people travel, when the right people stay at home?

I want a horse and plough, Chickens too, Just one cow, With a wistful moo.

Never mind, dear, we're all made the same, though some more than others.

I can take any amount of criticism, as long as it is unqualified praise.

It is my considered opinion that the human race (soi disant) is cruel, idiotic, sentimental, predatory, ungrateful, ugly, conceited and egocentric to the last ditch and that the occasional discovery of an isolated exception is as deliciously surprising as finding a sudden brazil nut in what you know to be five pounds of vanilla creams. These glorious moments, although not making life actually worth living, perhaps, at least make it pleasanter.

Bed is the perfect climate.

Goodnight, my darlings, I'll see you tomorrow.