An Englishman, me thinks,–not to speak of other European nations,–habitually regards himself merely as a constituent part of the English nation; he is a member of the royal regiment of Englishmen, and is proud of his company, as he has reason to be proud of it. But an American–one who has made tolerable use of his opportunities–cares, comparatively, little about such things, and is advantageously nearer to the primitive and the ultimate condition of man in these respects.

Put an Englishman into the garden of Eden, and he would find fault with the whole blasted concern; put a Yankee in, and he would see where he could alter it to advantage; put an Irishman in, and he would want to boss the thing; put a Dutchman in, and he would proceed to plant it.

What is wrong with the prosaic Englishman is what is wrong with the prosaic men of all countries: stupidity.

The strength of the two cultures was very different too: Japanese women instinctively understood yesterday and today and tomorrow. Call it wisdom. And they had staying power. American women only knew today and tended to come to pieces when just one day went wrong.

Babylon is everywhere. You have wrong and you have right. Wrong is what we call Babylon, wrong things. That is what Babylon is to me. I could have born in England, I could have born in America, it make no difference where me born, because there is Babylon everywhere.

The Frenchman works until he can play. The American works until he can’t play; and then thanks the devil, his master, that he is donkey enough to die in harness. But the Englishman, as he has since become, works until he can pretend that he never worked at all.

‘Recreative’ is a word that I invented because in urban culture, with colloquialism, we invent so many slangs. I don’t like the way that ‘recreational’ sounds – I don’t like to say I do a lot of ‘recreational’ reading. I like to say that I read ‘recreatively.’ I do a lot of ‘recreative’ reading.

I am going to have a cup of tea, like any good Englishman.

Not only England, but every Englishman is an island.

Right now, our model is the culture of exhaustion. We need to be exhausted before we can fall asleep, so we keep pushing and pushing ourselves. But if a society can’t rest, how can it sleep?

There’s something special about the barbershop. It’s a space where conversations and connections happen, where stories are shared over hot towels and cold cuts. Barber culture is something to celebrate and I want to capture that feeling in my.

But Shakespeare one gets acquainted with without knowing how. It is a part of an Englishman’s constitution. His thoughts and beauties are so spread abroad that one touches them everywhere; one is intimate with him by instinct. No man of any brain can open at a good part of one of his plays without falling into the flow of his meaning immediately.

‘Notting Hill?’ Does that poke fun at being British? Maybe it does. In ‘Mickey Blue Eyes,’ that’s kind of the point: the clash of worlds, the unlikely combo of a respectable Englishman and a mob guy. If you take out the Britishness, you don’t really have much.

You can always tell a man’s nationality by introducing him to a beautiful girl. An Englishman shakes her hand; a Frenchman kisses her hand; an American asks her for a date; and a Russian wires Moscow for instructions.

It is a misfortune for Anglo-American friendship that the two countries are supposed to have a common language. A Frenchman in America is not expected to talk like an American, but an Englishman speaking his mother tongue is thought to be affected and giving himself airs. Or else he is taken for a German or a Dutchman, and is complemented on his grammatical mastery of the language of another nation.

The keynote of American civilization is a sort of warm-hearted vulgarity. The Americans have none of the irony of the English, none of their cool poise, none of their manner. But they do have friendliness. Where an Englishman would give you his card, an American would very likely give you his shirt.

I never got into the Native American mythology. You can smoke the peace pipe till your dick falls off, but I’m not dancing with any wolves no matter how high I get? Not that I get high, but if I did my shit would still believe in our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Can’t help but notice how much they stick together, too. I mean, when you see Mexicans in the States you think, ‘Oh, there’s a group of Mexicans doin’ Mexican things together,’ but here you see that it’s not just because they talk the same language, and are all Catholic. Family means a lot to these people. Relationships, husbands, wives, parents, all that shit.

I think we are all individuals at the end of the day. There’s nothing about culture that can prescribe who you’re meant to be.

Every Englishman is an average Englishman: it is a national characteristic.

A Frenchman may possibly be clean; an Englishman is conscientiously clean.

By the way, whenever an Englishman would cry ‘All right!’ an American cries ‘Go ahead!’ which is somewhat expressive of the national character of the two countries.

Englishmen do like to get in a dress, any excuse.

An Englishman thinks a hundred miles is a long way; and American thinks a hundred years is a long time.

It is a thing which every sensible American should learn from every sensible Englishman, that glare and glitter, gimcracks and gewgaws, are not indispensable to domestic solacement.

Is not man born with a love of change—an Englishman to be discontented—an Anglo-Indian to grumble?

Englishmen have always loved Moliere.

An Irish man fights before he reasons, a Scotchman reasons before he fights, an Englishman is not particular as to the order of precedence, but will do either to accommodate his customers.

‘You Englishmen,’ said Herr Wurter. ‘You are all the same. Wherever you are you behave as if you were at home and your word was law’.

An Englishmen thinks seated; a Frenchmen standing; an American pacing, an Irishman, afterwards.

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the mid-day sun; The Japanese don’t care to, the Chinese wouldn’t dare to; Hindus and Argentines sleep firmly from twelve to one, But Englishmen detest a siesta.

If I were going to war I would want to be alongside an Englishman not a Frenchman. The Frenchman would think too much.

I’m sure this Jesus will not do Either for Englishman or Jew.

Some stories are meant to be experienced by everyone and language and culture are no bar.