Figures often beguile me, particularly when I have the arranging of them myself; in which case the remark attributed to Disraeli would often apply with justice and force: "There are three kinds of lies: lies, damned lies, and statistics."
Everyone keeps saying, "Oh my God, oh my God, how intimidating." It's like saying, "How could you date Jennifer Aniston after she's been with Brad Pitt?" I don't care.
If you desire to drain to the dregs the fullest cup of scorn and hatred that a fellow human being can pour out for you, let a young mother hear you call dear baby 'it.'
Men tend to lie when it comes to sexual conquests. You should hear some of the ego-driven lies my friends have told me: 'Swear to God, man - the hooker gave the money back.'
When they took a young man into Tellson's London house, they hid him somewhere till he was old. They kept him in a dark place, like a cheese, until he had the full Tellson flavour and blue-mould upon him. Then only was he permitted to be seen, spectacularly poring over large books, and casting his breeches and gaiters into the general weight of the establishment.