I cannot talk with civet in the room,A fine puss-gentleman that's all perfume.

Words learn'd by rote a parrot may rehearse, But talking is not always to converse, Not more distinct from harmony divine The constant creaking of a country sign.

Give me an ounce of civet, good apothecary, to sweeten my imagination.

A gentleman can live through anything.

We're the talk of the town, which is fine. ... It's everything everyone wanted it to be, and hopefully we can keep it going.

It's very hard to be a gentleman and a writer.