Playwrights are like men who have been dining for a month in an Indian restaurant. After eating curry night after night, they deny the existence of asparagus.

The truth is really an ambition which is beyond us.

Because they have been in love they have survived everything that life could throw at them, even their own failures.

There are experts in little things but there are no experts in big things. There are experts in this fact and that fact but there are no moral experts.

Love is an act of endless forgiveness. It means forget inconvenient duties, then forgive yourself for forgetting. By rigid practice and stern determination, it comes easy.

There is no question but that if Jesus Christ, or a great prophet from another religion, were to come back today, he would find it virtually impossible to convince anyone of his credentials despite the fact that the vast evangelical machine on American television is predicated on His imminent return among us sinners.

Laughter would be bereaved if snobbery died.