There is no such thing in anyone’s life as an unimportant day.
It comes from the likes of you! Take what you can get! Grab the chances as they come along! Act in hallways! Sing in doorways! Dance in cellars!
The English have an extraordinary ability for flying into a great calm.
I’m tired of hearing it said that democracy doesn’t work. Of course it doesn’t work. We are supposed to work it.
Nothing risque, nothing gained.
Reading Proust is like bathing in someone else’s dirty water.
Mrs. Patrick Cambell is an aged British battleship sinking rapidly and firing every available gun on her rescuers.
To all things clergic I am allergic.
It was Mrs. Campbell, for instance, who, on a celebrated occasion, threw her companion into a flurry by describing her recent marriage as “the deep, deep peace of the double-bed after the hurly-burly of the chaise-longue.”
One listens to one’s lawyer prattle on as long as one can stand it and then signs where indicated.
She was like a sinking ship firing on the rescuers.
A broker is a man who runs your fortune into a shoestring.
The scenery in the play was beautiful, but the actors got in front of it.
There’s nothing wrong with Oscar Levant – nothing a miracle won’t cure.
You haven’t lived until you died in New York.
Babies in silk hats playing with dynamite.
Today just might be the best day to start seriously thinking about quitting smoking...
I count it a high honor to belong to a profession in which the good men write every paragraph, every sentence, every line, as lovingly as any Addison or Steele, and do so in full regard that by tomorrow it will have been burned, or used, if at all, to line a shelf.
Germany was the cause of Hitler as much as Chicago is responsible for the Chicago Tribune.
His huff arrived and he departed in it.
Los Angeles is seven suburbs in search of a city.