Is everything a joke to you?” I asked. He dabbed his tongue to his lip again. “Not everything. ” “Like what?” “You.
Middle age is when, whenever you go on holiday, you pack a sweater.
It's a funny kind of month, October. For the really keen cricket fan it's when you discover that your wife left you in May.
There's an unseen force which lets birds know when you've just washed your car.
If all the world is a stage, and all the men and women merely players, where do all the audiences come from?
And when you're on your own there is that terrifying possibility that you may be the only person on the planet who thinks it's funny - and you have no way of finding out.
It's like your children talking about holidays, you find they have a quite different memory of it from you. Perhaps everything is not how it is, but how it's remembered.
Nonviolence becomes meaningless if violence is permitted for self-defence.
It's impossible to ravish me, I'm so willing.
No, we are not anti-white. But we don't have time for the white man. The white man is on top already, the white man is the boss already. . . He has first-class citizenship already. So you are wasting your time talking to the white man. We are working on our own people.
Basic facts tend always to be those most easily overlooked.