It's your business if you want to run around in spandex, sporting a do-rag or a moussed pompadour with ponytail...

This was the kind of operator who would tell you to be there at nine sharp and if you weren't sitting quietly with a pleased smile on your pan when he floated in two hours later on a double Gibson, he would have a paroxysm of outraged executive ability […].

But there are, nevertheless, plenty of passages, both in Tristram Shandy and the Sentimental Journey, where the intention is wholly and unmixedly pathetic--where the smile is not for a moment meant to compete with the tear--which are, nevertheless, it must be owned, complete failures, and failures traceable with much certainty, or so it seems to me, to the artistic error above-mentioned.

This festival is an excellent chance to see new talent aborning.