The great ages of prose are the ages in which men shave. The great ages of poetry are those in which they allow their beards to grow. – Robert Lynd
It may be that all games are silly. But then, so are humans. – Robert Lynd
The great ages of prose are the ages in which men shave. The great ages of poetry are those in which they allow their beards to grow. – Robert Lynd
It may be that all games are silly. But then, so are humans. – Robert Lynd
No human being believes that any other human being has a right to be in bed when he himself is up. – Robert Lynd
Coleridge says that to bait a mouse-trap is as much as to say to the mouse, Come and have a piece of cheese, and then, when it accepts the invitation, to do it to death is a betrayal of the laws of hospitality. – Robert Lynd
But he wore a moustache—a shaggy moustache too: nothing in the meek and merciful way, but quite in the fierce and scornful style: the regular Satanic sort of thing—and he wore, besides, a vast quantity of unbrushed hair. – Charles Dickens, The Life and Adventures of Martin Chuzzlewit, 1843