Fascism may be good at making the trains run on time, but you wouldn't like some of the destinations.

They obeyed, as wise men do when a woman puts her foot down . . .

Getting an education was a bit like a communicable sexual disease.

Never trust any complicated cocktail that remains perfectly clear until the last ingredient goes in, and then immediately clouds.

The storm was really giving it everything it had. This was its big chance. It had spent years hanging around the provinces, putting in some useful work as a squall, building up experience, making contacts, occasionally leaping out on unsuspecting shepherds or blasting quite small oak trees. Now an opening in the weather had given it an opportunity to strut its hour, and it was building up its role in the hope of being spotted by one of the big climates.

It is possibly worth mentioning at this point that Mr. Young thought that paparazzi was a kind of Italian linoleum.

The only really sane person in there is Igor, and possibly the turnip. And I'm not sure about the turnip.