Intoxicated? The word did not express it by a mile. He was oiled, boiled, fried, plastered, whiffled, sozzled, and blotto.

Memories are like mulligatawny soup in a cheap restaurant. It is wiser not to stir them.

Just another proof, of course, of what I often say - it takes all sorts to make a world.

There's too much of that where-every-prospect-pleases-and-only-man-is-vile stuff buzzing around for my taste.

When you have been just told that the girl you love is definitely betrothed to another, you begin to understand how Anarchists must feel when the bomb goes off too soon.

...there was practically one handwriting common to the whole school when it came to writing lines. It resembled the movements of a fly that had fallen into an ink-pot, and subsequently taken a little brisk exercise on a sheet of foolscap by way of restoring the circulation.

So always look for the silver lining And try to find the sunny side of life.