[b]Evelyn Waugh
Never get mixed up in a Welsh wrangle. It doesn’t end in blows like an Irish one, but goes on forever.[/b]
Just out of curiosity, why is this important to know? Oh, and is it actually true?
Oh, why did nobody warn me? cried Grimes in agony. I should have been told. They should have told me in so many words. They should have warned me about Flossie, not about the fires of hell. I’ve risked them, and I don’t mind risking them again, but they should have told me about marriage. They should have told me that at the end of that gay journey and flower-strewn path were the hideous lights of home and the voices of children.
Obviously: You’ve either been there or you haven’t.
I haven’t been to sleep for over a year. That’s why I go to bed early. One needs more rest if one doesn’t sleep.
Trust me, for some, this is not in the least bit funny.
Comparisons are odious.
Compared to what?
I read the newspapers with lively interest. It is seldom that they are absolutely, point-blank wrong. That is the popular belief, but those who are in the know can usually discern an embryo of truth, a little grit of fact, like the core of a pearl, round which have been deposited the delicate layers of ornament.
I wonder if it is still that way today.
Instead of this absurd division into sexes they ought to class people as static and dynamic.
Personally, I don’t see it catching on.