When I am dead, I hope it may be said: His sins were scarlet, but his books were read. – Hilaire Belloc
I shoot the Hippopotamus
With bullets made of platinum,
Because if I use leaden ones
His hide is sure to flatten em. – Hilaire Belloc
Matilda told such dreadful lies,
It made one gasp and stretch ones eyes;
Her aunt, who from her earliest youth,
Had kept a strict regard for truth,
Attempted to believe Matilda:
The effort very nearly killed her. – Hilaire Belloc
Is there no Latin word for Tea? Upon my soul, if I had known that I would have let the vulgar stuff alone. – Hilaire Belloc