Summary

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

My dear George, they are atrocious. And they leave me unsatisfied.
Lord Illingworth. You are a promising disciple of mine. The only use of a disciple is that at the moment of one's triumph he stands behind one's chair and shouts that after all he is immortal.
Lord Goring. You are quite right. It is as well, too, to remember from time to time that nothing that is worth knowing can be learnt.
Lord Illingworth. Certainly, and ugliness is the root of all industry.
Lord Goring. George, your conversation is delightful, but your views are terribly unsound. You are always saying insincere things.
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

I replied; I sometimes use terms of endearment to the members of my domestic circle. "It is a picture given to me by a grateful client."
"Client!" she exclaimed; "and a grateful one! What a find! But why bring it here? Haven't we already more pictures than we want? Why at this moment there's half-a-dozen of extra plates from the Christmas numbers that you would have framed, waiting to be hung."
"But this, my love, is an oil-painting, with what I judge to be a very valuable old-fashioned frame."
By this time my present was revealed.
"Why, it's only the picture of a donkey!"
Source: Gutenberg

Various Punch, or the London Charivari…

If one tells the truth, one is sure sooner or later to be found out.
Lord Goring. Perhaps. The sky is like a hard hollow sapphire. It is too late to sleep. I shall go down to Covent Garden and look at the roses. Good-night, George! I have had such a pleasant evening!
DEATH IN THE CUP.
["The social duty of paying calls, refreshed, as it necessarily is, by frequent cups of tepid tea, is apparently little better than a process of slow poisoning."—Daily Graphic.]
Source: Gutenberg

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