You rich people are all the same. You couldn't care less about the other half of the world. They can all starve to death for all you care!

Veal! Trust these bloated plutocrats to eat the flesh of poor, newly-born calves!

Are you a Communist, Dora?

And believe me, darling, there's no man more faithful than a reformed playboy. They make far better husbands than men who haven't had time to sow their wild oats before they marry, so go off the rails at about forty-five because they suddenly realise that they've missed out on life and if they don't hurry up it's going to be too late.

It's quite confusing being one of the less wealthy people at a posh place.

I also have in my mind that seemingly wealthy, but most terribly impoverished class of all, who have accumulated dross, but know not how to use it, or get rid of it, and thus have forged their own golden or silver fetters.