He who laughs most, learns best - John Cleese

New Yorkers weren’t rude so much as tense. If I went into a tobacconist and started with my public school patter, “I’m so sorry to bother you but I’d rather care to buy some cigarettes, so if you’d be so good as to allow me to intrude upon your time …,” they’d shout “Whaddyawant?” as though you’d insulted them. But if you strode into the store, fixed them with a look of pure hatred and hissed the word “Larks!,” they’d smile and chat and tell you why they’d just left their wife.

Getting discouraged is a total waste of your time.

After I’d been in his class a few weeks he looked at me thoughtfully and said: ‘Ah . . . Cleeeese . . .’ ‘Sir?’ ‘Your housssemaster ssays you’re intelligent.’ ‘Oh!’ ‘. . . I don’t sssee it mysssself . . .’ I wasn’t hurt or surprised. I took his remark as pure information. It was only when I recalled this many years later that I found myself thinking, ‘What was he intending to achieve with this remark?’ And I came to the conclusion that it made him feel better about himself – the same reason people read snide gossip columns.