I have spent half my life being told I am impossible, which is rich coming from George Bernard Shaw and H. G. Wells, two men who can turn an argument into a syllabus. by G. K. Chesterton

Better a syllabus than a soup bowl, Gilbert. You write as if the universe owes you a waistline and a mic.

Fine, you win the room, Chesterton, but Shaw and I still agree on one thing: you never met a point you couldn’t decorate into a parade.

I should think so; I have never trusted a theory that arrives wearing a collar and pretending to be a revolution.

That’s because Chesterton always talks like he’s being applauded by a cathedral.

And you write as if trimming a sentence counts as moral victory.

Both of you are unbearable, but only one of you makes every debate sound like a parish raffle.