To be extravagant you need money. True. But you do not need your own money.

An Englishman, even if he is alone, forms an orderly queue of one.

On the Continent people have good food; in England people have good table manners.

The man who is not afraid of danger is not a hero, but a psychopath.

You can keep a dog: but it is the cat who keeps people, because cats find humans useful domestic animals.

In England only uneducated people show off their knowledge; nobody quotes Latin or Greek authors in the course of conversation, unless he has never read them.

Many Continentals think life is a game; the English think cricket is a game.

A dog will flatter you but you have to flatter the cat.

I asked many friends if Australian anti-intellectualism was still a living force and they all told me it was. If you are above average intelligence, hide this embarrassing fact.

The English are always ready to admire anything so long as they can queue up.

The British suffer from a most unfortunate superiority complex - unjustified even under Victoria and most certainly hopelessly out-of-date today.

Your calling is in what you read, think and talk about

David tells me that fairies never say 'We feel happy': what they say is, 'We feel dancey'.

I have worked like a dog all my life, honey. Dancing, as Fred Astaire said, is next to ditch-digging. You sweat and you slave and the audience doesn’t think you have a brain in your head.

Life consists not in holding good cards but in playing those you hold well.

I have fun acting, and I want to do more of it, and I want to direct my own movie.

Don't know whether I said the right things but I tried to! I have got to get used to it but I have said this before, what appears in cold print isn't necessarily what you actually say.

Sometimes the song that takes the littlest amount of time are sometimes the best songs you ever do.

You're always looking for some new way to tell the same story, but it's how they get to the happy end that is the challenge and the fun for a writer.

And tears are heard within the harp I touch.

This is the way the world ends, not with a bang, but a whimper.