I Could Not Conjure Up One Melancholy

The Odour Of Burgundy, And The Smell Of French Sauces, And The Sight Of Clean Napkins And Long Loaves, Knocked As A Very Welcome Visitor At The Door Of Our Inner Man.

I Saw A Great Newfoundland Dog The Other Day Sitting In Front Of A Mirror At The Entrance To A Shop In Regent's Circus, And Examining Himself With An Amount Of Smug Satisfaction That I Have Never Seen Equaled Elsewhere Outside A Vestry Meeting.

1lb Beefstak, With 1pt Bitter Beer Every 6 Hours. 1 Ten-mile Walk Every Morning. 1 Bed At 11 Sharp Every Night. And Don't Stuff Your Head With Things You Don't Understand.

Angels May Be Very Excellent Sort Of Folk In Their Way, But We, Poor Mortals, In Our Present State, Would Probably Find Them Precious Slow Company.

Swearing Relieves The Feelings - That Is What Swearing Does. I Explained This To My Aunt On One Occasion, But It Didn't Answer With Her. She Said I Had No Business To Have Such Feelings.