The Italian prose tale had begun to exercise that influence as early as Chaucer's time: but circumstances and atmosphere were as yet unfavourable for its growth.

Alcoholic drinks, rightly used, are good for body and soul alike, but as a restorative of both there is nothing like brandy.

Nothing is more curious than the almost savage hostility that Humour excites in those who lack it.

The hardest thing to attain... is the appreciation of difference without insisting on superiority.

It is the unbroken testimony of all history that alcoholic liquors have been used by the strongest, wisest, handsomest, and in every way best races of all times.

I do not think anything serious should be done after dinner, as nothing should be before breakfast.

When people cannot write good literature it is perhaps natural that they should lay down rules how good literature should be written.

When [wines] were good they pleased my sense, cheered my spirits, improved my moral and intellectual powers, besides enabling me to confer the same benefits on other people. (Notes on a Cellar Book)

But the eighteenth century, on the whole, loathed melancholy.

But even gold is not everything: and only a fanatic, and a rather foolish fanatic, would say that this style of fiction summed up and exhausted all the good that fiction could give and do.

Miss Austen had shown the infinite possibilities of ordinary and present things for the novelist.

He was now in that state of fire that she loved. She wanted to be burnt.

Dreaming By Day, Wishing On Stars At Night...

There is no substitute for the spiritual well-being.

I love food and I love everything involved with food. I love the fun of it. I love restaurants. I love cooking, although I don't cook very much. I love kitchens.

Human cruelty and treachery surpassed all understanding. There were no answers. Only excuses.

Questions outlive the answers.

To Norwegians, the polka is a form of martial art.

Just be true to you. What works for me might not work for someone else and what works for someone else might not work for me.

When she had passed, it seemed like the ceasing of exquisite music.

Repetition comforts me for a time, then closes in.