I had a glorious father, I had no father at all.

[Evelyn Waugh] made drunkenness cute and chic, and then took to religion, simply to have the most expensive carpet of all to be sick on.

Economists are like Aeolian harps, and the sounds that issue from them are determined by the winds that blow.

Writers on the subject of August Strindberg have hitherto omitted to mention that he could not write. ... Strindberg, who was neither a good nor a wise man, had a stroke of luck. He went mad. He lost the power of inhibition. Everything down to the pettiest suspicion that the dog had been given the leanest mutton chop, poured out of his lips. Men of his weakness and sensuality are usually, from their sheer brutishness, unable to express themselves. But Strindberg was mad and articulate. That is what makes him immortal.

The choice between law and justice is an easy one for courageous minds.

Nobody likes having salt rubbed into their wounds, even if it is the salt of the earth.

... there has never been a period in history when there have been necessary killings which has not been instantly followed by a period when there have been unnecessary killings.