Now, the storal of the mory is this: If you ever go to a bancy fall and want to have a pransom hince lall in fove with you, don’t forget to slop your dripper!
[Ronnie Barker]

Flannery O’Connor, in a letter, on a review of “A Good Man is Hard to Find”:

“The notice in the New Yorker was not only moronic, it was unsigned. It was a case in which it is easy to see that the moral sense has been bred out of certain sections of the population like the wings have been bred off certain chickens to produce more white meat on them. This is a generation of wingless chickens, which I suppose is what Nietzsche meant when he said God was dead.”