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 is almost impossible to remember how tragic a place this world is when one is playing golf. – 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
Were I a philosopher, I should write a philosophy of toys, showing that nothing else in life need to be taken seriously, and that Christmas Day in the company of children is one of the few occasions on which men become entirely alive. – Robert Lynd
A particular face shows determination merely by the turn of the moustache; but the moustache is robbed of all its expression unless it be worn by itself. Accompanied by the other parts of the beard, it loses its originality, it ceases to be a marked characteristic of will or temper. – Charles Blanc, Art in Ornament and Dress, 1875