Humour is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.
Virginia Woolf
The Common Reader
Humour is the first of the gifts to perish in a foreign tongue.
We may enjoy our room in the tower, with the painted walls and the commodious bookcases, but down in the garden there is a man digging who buried his father this morning, and it is he and his like who live the real life and speak the real language.
Virginia Woolf