There is a touch of the fascist in most adolescents; they admire the strong man who stands no nonsense; they have no objection to seeing the weak trampled underfoot; mercy in its more subtle forms is outside their understanding and has no meaning for them.

Success? It has the shortest half-life of any known substance.

I suppose you really like them dirty," said Miss Vyner. "That’s it. Dirty and full of divine mystery," said Cobbler, rolling his eyes and kissing his fingers. “Sheer connoisseurship, I confess, but I’ve always preferred a bit of ripened cheese to a scientifically packaged breakfast food.

It was plain that he had had a lot of training, for nobody ever sang so by the light of Nature.

It is doubtful if, at any time in her life, anyone had sung directly at Miss Pottinger, and she was flustered in a region of her being from which she had had no messages for many years.

Secondrateness comes out of his pores like a fog.

What would you do if you were me?" said Solly. "What would I do in your place?""No, no; you’d do something fantastic and get farther into the soup. I want to know what you would do if you were intelligent but prudent. What would you do if you were me?

Lots of people do," said Cobbler, "but don’t delude yourself. You’re not the suicidal type." "Why not?" "You’re too gabby. People who talk a lot about their troubles never commit suicide; talk’s the greatest safety-valve there is.

The people who fear humor - and they are many - are suspicious of its power to present things in unexpected lights, to question received opinions and to suggest unforeseen possibilities.