The naturalistic literature of this country has reached such a state that no family of characters is considered true to life whichdoes not include at least two hypochondriacs, one sadist, and one old man who spills food down the front of his vest.

A great many people have come up to me and asked how I manage to get so much work done and still keep looking so dissipated.

It has always seemed to me that the most difficult part of building a bridge would be the start.

If only those old walls could talk...how boring they would be.

In a house where there are small children the bathroom soon takes on the appearance of the Old Curiosity Shop.

But ice-crunching and loud gum-chewing, together with drumming on tables, and whistling the same tune 70 times in succession, because they indicate an indifference on the part of the perpetrator to the rest of the world in general, are not only registered on the delicate surfaces of the brain but eat little holes in it until it finally collapses or blows up.

I never liked bananas much anyway. Two-thirds of the way down even one banana I am willing to concede defeat smilingly and give the rest to the nearest monkey.