My grandparents invented joylessness. They were not fun. I've already had more fun with my grandchildren than my grandparents ever had with me.
I can be very stoic looking, that's just my facial expression. I don't smile a lot.
He was a solemn, unsmiling, sanctimonious old iceberg who looked like he was waiting for a vacancy in the Trinity.
My face frowns by default, so when I'm most calm is when I appear the least approachable.
I don't like happy stuff. I'm not funny.
I suppose I'm a bit mean. My face on camera doesn't lend itself to happy nice guys. I think it's just that my bone structure looks menacing.
The majority of philosophers are totally humorless. That's part of their trouble.
The governess was not much liked in the village. She was too tall, too fond of books, too grave, and, a curious thing, never smiled unless there was something to smile at.
I don't smile a lot in my pictures. I'm always so... grim.
I'm accused by many people of being the most serious man on television.
My face always looks bored or depressed. It's not an accurate impression.
People think that I'm very serious.
