I went to the bar where I bought a pint and two large brandies. ... Not brandy, she replied, but I could use a long drink - maybe a half of lager.

You are the sun at Noon, that golds the barley, and pulls the bee to the ling on the moor.

Listen, buttercup, you're damned good in bed. They don't come any better, but I'm really not interested in playing second fiddle to your camera or your young lovers.

Gaily-garbed Indians and an historical diamond-stacked locomotive, nearly nine decades young, featured a public program there.