Three Men in a Boat

by Jerome K. Jerome

We must not think of the things we could do with, but only of the things that we can’t do without.’

Throw the lumber over, man! Let your boat of life be light, packed with only what you need – a homely home and simple pleasures, one or two friends, worth the name, someone to love and someone to love you, a cat, a dog, and a pipe or two, enough to eat and enough to wear, and a little more than enough to drink; for thirst is a dangerous thing.

everything has its drawbacks, as the man said when his mother-in-law died, and they came down upon him for the funeral expenses.

I notice that people always make gigantic arrangements for bathing when they are going anywhere near the water, but that they don’t bathe much when they are there.

The lady under whose roof I have the honour of residing is a widow, and, for all I know, possibly an orphan too.

I’m not like that. I can’t sit still and see another man slaving and working. I want to get up and superintend, and walk round with my hands in my pockets, and tell him what to do.