There was nothing separate about her days. Like drops on the window-pane, they ran together and trickled away.
I've finally gotten to the bottom of things.
My first love was Cinderella, but she ran off with another man.
Out in Hollywood, where the streets are paved with Goldwyn.
[Completely bored by a country weekend, wiring to a friend:] For heaven's sake, rush me a loaf of bread, enclosing saw and file.
Despite his persecutions, Mr. [Upton] Sinclair reveals himself in Money Writes! to be an enviable man. Always the thing he desires to believe is the thing he feels he knows to be true.
This play John Drinkwater's Abraham Lincoln holds the season's record, thus far, with a run of four evening performances and one matinee. By an odd coincidence, it ran just five performances too many.
Scratch an actor and you'll find an actress.
I'll think about something else. I'll just sit quietly. If I could sit still. If I could sit still, maybe I could read. Oh, all the books are about people who love each other, truly and sweetly. What do they want to write about that for? Don't they know it isn't true? Don't they know it's a lie, it's a God-damned lie? What do they have to tell about that for, when they know how it hurts?
Then if my friendships break and bend, There's little need to cry The while I know that every foe Is faithful till I die.
I like to have a martini/Two at the very most.
Scratch a king and find a fool!
Trapped like a trap in a trap
Somewhere, there, is an analogy, in a small way, if you have the patience for it. But I guess it isn't a very good anecdote. I'm better at animal stories.
I wouldn't touch a superlative again with an umbrella.
The House Beautiful is the play lousy.
Civilization is coming to an end, you understand.
...as for helping me in the outside world, the Convent taught me only that if you spit on a pencil eraser, it will erase ink.
Be you wise and never sad, You will get your lovely lad. Never serious be, nor true, And your wish will come to you-- And if that makes you happy, kid, You'll be the first it ever did.
I wish, I wish I were a poisonous bacterium.
Men don't like nobility in woman. Not any men. I suppose it is because the men like to have the copyrights on nobility -- if there is going to be anything like that in a relationship.
On being told of the death of former President Calvin Coolidge: How could they tell?
[Hospitalized and pressing the nurse's button before dictating letters to her secretary:] This should assure us of at least forty-five minutes of undisturbed privacy.
She will never win him, whose words had shown she feared to lose.
tomorrow's gone-we'll have tonight!
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