“Coughing in the theater is not a respiratory ailment. It is a criticism.”

Men die but an idea does not.

Lots of cosy sky That God and I can share. I need air. I need air.

A schedule so tight that it would only work if I didn’t sleep on Monday nights.

Pleasure without joy is as hollow as passion without tenderness.

It’s not a pretty face, I grant you. But underneath its flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character.

All to often, however, what she [the woman] does want is the man she hopes she will make out of the man she already has.

Don’t let it be forgot, that once there was a spot, for one brief shining moment, that was known as Camelot.

I could have danced all night!

There’s a smile on my face for the whole human race.

Eternally noble, historically fair; Who, when you win, will always give your back a pat. Why can’t a woman be like that?

By order summer lingers through September In Camelot.

I’m getting married in the morning! / Ding dong! the bells are gonna chime.

Why can’t the English teach their children how to speak?

You will follow every mountain, sea and shore, You will see from far and near a world you’ve never seen before.

England still will be here without you.

You see what happens today. Women act like men and want to be treated like women.

One of the commonest ailments of the present day is the premature formation of opinion.