Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring.

In my more pompous moments I like to think of myself as a writer rather than a humorist, but I suppose that's merely the vanity of advancing age.

Nature, it appears, has been rather more bountiful to Paul's body and purse than to his intellect; above the ears, speaking bluntly, the boy is strictly tapioca.

There is something about a home aquarium which sets my teeth on edge the moment I see it. Why anyone would want to live with a small container of stagnant water populated by a half-dead guppy is beyond me.

The fact is that all of us have only one personality, and we wring it out like a dishtowel. You are what you are.

Tomatoes and squash never fail to reach maturity. You can spray them with acid, beat them with sticks and burn them; they love it.

Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring.