America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.
The English think soap is civilization.
If there was ever an aviary overstocked with jays it is that Yaptouwn on the Hudson called New York
The two sides of industry have traditionally always regarded each other in Britain with the greatest possible loathing, mistrust and contempt. They are both absolutely right.
Thirty millions, mostly fools.
The English instinctively admire any man who has no talent and is modest about it.
The American political system is like fast food - mushy, insipid, made out of disgusting parts of things and everybody wants some.
The American nation in the sixth ward is a fine people; they love the eagle - on the back of a dollar.
I found there a country with thirty-two religions and only one sauce.
I found it hugely insulting that people believed I'd go so far out of my way - living with Playmates, vacationing with actresses, showing up at nightclubs - to act out a lifestyle that would amount to a charade. If I was gay, I'd be gay all the way.
There is nothing the matter with Americans except their ideals. The real American is all right; it is the ideal American who is all wrong.
Don't count your wrongs, count your blessings and you shall not fail. Any human who calls himself a creature of God and does not count, many times during the day, the blessings but only counts what he doesn't have is insulting to God and to himself; he is a living non-reality.
The hatred Americans have for their own government is pathological, if understandable. At one level it is simply thwarted greed: since our religion is making a buck, giving a part of that buck to any government is an act against nature.
A pirate spreading misery and ruin over the face of the ocean
What the creeping crud is that?" [Percy] demanded. "You’re inside a giant glowing chicken-man!" "Hawk!" I yelled. I decided that if I survived this day I would have to make sure this guy never met Sadie. They’d probably take turns insulting me for the rest of eternity.
In Germany democracy died by the headman's axe. In Britain it can be by pernicious anaemia.
America... where law and custom alike are based upon the dreams of spinsters...
The Americans, like the English, probably make love worse than any other race.
I heard an Englishman, who had been long resident in America, declare that in following, in meeting, or in overtaking, in the street, on the road, or in the field, at the theatre, the coffee-house, or at home, he had never overheard Americans conversing without the word DOLLAR being pronounced between them. Such unity of purpose ... can ... be found nowhere else, except... in an ant's nest.
Speaking of New York as a traveller I have two faults to find with it. In the first place there is nothing to see; and in the second place there is no mode of getting about to see anything.
Last week, I had to offer my publisher a bottle that was far too good for him simply because there was nothing between the insulting and the superlative.
They were frightfully angry. Quite apart from the stones no spider has ever liked being called Attercop, and Tomnoddy of course is insulting to anybody.
I might as well enquire,” replied she, “why with so evident a design of offending and insulting me, you chose to tell me that you liked me against your will, against your reason, and even against your character?
The average cooking in the average hotel for the average Englishman explains to a large extent the English bleakness and taciturnity. Nobody can beam and warble while chewing pressed beef smeared with diabolical mustard. Nobody can exult aloud while ungluing from his teeth a quivering tapioca pudding.
Colombe Josse is the older Jesse daughter. Colombe Jesse is also a sort of tall blonde leek who dresses like a penniless Bohemian. If there is one thing I despise, it is the perverse affectation of rich people who go around dressing as if they were poor, in second-hand clothes, ill-fitting gray bonnets, socks full of holes, and flowered shirts under threadbare sweaters. Not only is it ugly, it is also insulting: nothing is more despicable than a rich man's scorn for a poor man's longing.
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