My Mind Is Not A Bed To

Long Experience Has Taught Me That In England Nobody Goes To The Theatre Unless He Or She Has Bronchitis.

Your Englishman, Confronted By Something Abnormal Will Always Pretend That It Isn't There. If, However, You Force Him To Look Into It, He'll At Once Pretend That He Sees The Object Not For What It Is But For Something That He Would Like It To Be.

The English Instinctively Admire Any Man Who Has No Talent And Is Modest About It.

All I Want Is A Modest Place In Mr X's Good Reading, Miss Y's Good Writing, And That New Edition Of One Thousand Best Bits Of Recent Prose.

I... Wonder What It Is In The New York Air That Enables Me To Sit Up Till All Hours Of The Night In An Atmosphere Which In London Would Make A Horse Dizzy, But Here Merely Clears The Brain.