Noël Coward Quotes (1899-1973)

“Mad about the boy, It's pretty funny but I'm mad about the boy. He has a gay appeal That makes me feel There may be something sad about the boy.”

“Let's drink to the spirit of gallantry and courage that made a strange Heaven out of unbelievable Hell, and let's drink to the hope that one day this country of ours, which we love so much, will find dignity and greatness and peace again.”

“Poor Uncle Harry Having become a missionary Found the natives' morals rather crude. He and Aunt Mary Swiftly imposed an arbitrary Ban upon them shopping in the nude. Now they all considered this silly, And they didn't take it well. They burnt his boots, and several suits, and wrecked the Mission Hotel They also burnt his mackintosh, which made a disgusting smell.”

“Mad about the boy I know it's stupid to be mad about the boy I'm so ashamed of it but must admit the sleepless nights I've had About the boy”

“The lifestyle presented in Hay Fever, Design for Living, Private Lives and Blithe Spirit is somewhat more acceptable now than it was in Coward's day, but the plays can never be either controversial or dated. Coward emphasized entertainment, not message, and the principal appeal of these scintillating comedies arises from their bantering dialogue (with just a touch of malice and cynicism) and their amusing situations (with just a touch of sexual spice). The artificiality of both is part of their charm. The carefully wrought machine runs on jewels of wit, and charming little figures parade before us at the appropriate times with striking effect. That it also indicates The Times is almost incidental, but useful.”

“Coward's influence spread even to the outposts of Rickmansworth and Poona. Hearty naval commanders or jolly colonels acquired the "camp" manners of calling everything from Joan of Arc to Merlin "lots of fun," and the adjective "terribly" peppered every sentence. All sorts of men suddenly wanted to look like Noel Coward—sleek and satiny, clipped and well groomed, with a cigarette, a telephone, or a cocktail at hand.”

“I asked Coward about a famous anecdote about him. He was alleged to have been sitting under cover from the heavy rain next to his close friend Princess Marina, Duchess of Kent, prior to going to Westminster Abbey for the Coronation service. Opposite them was another queen who had made her way into the affections of the British public, the vast Salote, Queen of Tonga. "Noël, who is that little man sheltering under Queen Salote's umbrella?" asked his companion. Coward peered through the rain. "Oh, her lunch, my dear." He laughed. "That was said by somebody at White's, and immediately attributed to me. That was very flattering of course, except I had intended to visit Tonga the following winter, and after that of course it was quite impossible."”

“My big break came the next year with Bitter Sweet, starring Anna Neagle. I had a dress with a plunging neckline. Noël Coward said he could see the White Cliffs of Dover and I felt devastated. If you're blind, you'll miss me in that one.”

“Noel Coward, who brain is so delicate that it is intoxicated by the slightest waves in the ether, has, in desperation, taken a header in the wrong direction. He ought to be a white-hot pacifist. But somebody waved a Union Jack in front of him, and he tripped up, and he wrote Cavalcade. That play is about the finest essay in betrayal since Judas Iscariot jingled his thirty pieces of silver in the moonlight a number of years ago. And the tragedy of it is heightened by the fact that it is Noel who has been betrayed, and not his public. His public, which is deservedly vast, adored the flags and the streamers, the blood red, ice-white and royal blue which, in varying patterns, he threw across the stage of Drury Lane. And he, I am quite sure, adored the thirty thousand pieces of silver which, as a result of this play, he was able to jingle in his pocket. But the play was a tragedy, none the less. And the tragedy was not on the stage. It was in the Royal Box. It was focused in the thin, nervous face of the young man who had created this glittering tissue of dramatic lies, as he turned to his adoring audience, and said, "It's pretty exciting to be English nowadays."”

“Did I tell you about Noel Coward? He is in search of culture, and thinks Bloomsbury a kind of place of pilgrimage. Will you come and meet him? He is a miracle, a prodigy. He can sing, dance, write plays, act, compose, and I daresay paint.—He rescued his whole family who kept boarding houses in Surbiton, and they are now affluent, but on the verge of bankruptcy, because he spends so much on cocktails. If he could only become like Bloomsbury he thinks he might be saved.”