No one can be an unbeliever nowadays. The Christian Apologists have left one nothing to disbelieve.

Addresses are given to us to conceal our whereabouts.

Hors d’oeuvres have always a pathetic interest for me; they remind me of one’s childhood that one goes through wondering what the next course is going to be like – and during the rest of the menu one wishes one had eaten more of the hors d’oeuvres.

I always say beauty is only sin deep.

You needn’t tell me that a man who doesn’t love oysters and asparagus and good wines has got a soul, or a stomach either. He’s simply got the instinct for being unhappy highly developed.

He spends his life explaining from his pulpit that the glory of Christianity consists in the fact that though it is not true it has been found necessary to invent it.

The young have aspirations that never come to pass, the old have reminiscences of what never happened.

Children with Hyacinth’s temperament don’t know better as they grow older; they merely know more.

Great Socialist statesmen aren’t made, they’re still-born.

He’s simply got the instinct for being unhappy highly developed.

The sacrifices of friendship were beautiful in her eyes as long as she was not asked to make them.

A little inaccuracy sometimes saves a ton of explanation.

It’s no use growing older if you only learn new ways of misbehaving yourself.

No one can be an unbeliever nowadays. The Christian Apologists have left one nothing to disbelieve.