Success Does Not Consist In

If You Can Say A Thing With One Stroke, Unanswerably You Have Style; If Not, You Are At Best A Marchande De Plaisir; A Decorative Litt

Your Wits Can't Thicken In That Soft Moist Air, On Those White Springy Roads, In Those Misty Rushes And Brown Bogs, On Those Hillsides Of Granite Rocks And Magenta Heather. You've No Such Colours In The Sky, No Such Lure In The Distances, No Such Sadness In The Evenings. Oh The Dreaming! The Dreaming! The Torturing, Heart-scalding, Never Satisfying Dreaming, Dreaming, Dreaming, Dreaming!

I Hate The Poor And Look Forward Eagerly To Their Extermination.

You Cannot Learn To Skate Without Making Yourself Ridiculous - The Ice Of Life Is Slippery.

There Is Only One Person An English Girl Hates More Than She Hates Her Elder Sister; And That Is Her Mother.