We are the folk song army, every one of us cares. We all hate poverty, war, and injustice unlike the rest of you squares.

Soon we'll be out amid the cold world's strife. Soon we'll be sliding down the razor blade of life. But as we go our sordid sep'rate ways, We shall ne'er forget thee, thou golden college days. Hearts full of youth, Hearts full of truth, Six parts gin to one part vermouth.

Apart from that Mrs Lincoln, how did you enjoy the play?

Be careful not to do your good deeds when there's no one watching you.

In one word he told me the secret of success in mathematics: plagiarize; only be sure always to call it . . . research.

The audiences like to think that satire is doing something. But, in fact, it is mostly to leave themselves satisfied. Satisfied rather than angry, which is what they should be.

Bad weather always looks worse through a window.