There is no such thing in anyone's life as an unimportant day.
I'm tired of hearing it said that democracy doesn't work. Of course it doesn't work. We are supposed to work it.
All the things I really like to do are either immoral, illegal or fattening.
The two oldest professions in the world — ruined by amateurs.
Many of us spend half of our time wishing for things we could have if we didn't spend half our time wishing.
To all things clergic I am allergic.
Nothing risque, nothing gained.
A hick town is one where there is no place to go where you shouldn't go.
The scenery in the play was beautiful, but the actors got in front of it.
His huff arrived and he departed in it.
At 83, George Bernard Shaw's mind was perhaps not quite as good as it used to be, but it was still better than anyone else's.
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!
One listens to one's lawyer prattle on as long as one can stand it and then signs where indicated.
All the things I really like to do are either illegal, immoral, or fattening.
A broker is a man who runs your fortune into a shoestring.
Reading Proust is like bathing in someone else's dirty water.
The English have an extraordinary ability for flying into a great calm.
There's absolutely nothing wrong with Oscar Levant that a miracle can't fix.
Los Angeles is seven suburbs in search of a city.
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.
Today just might be the best day to start seriously thinking about quitting smoking.
Mrs. Patrick Cambell is an aged British battleship sinking rapidly and firing every available gun on her rescuers.
You haven't lived until you died in New York.
She was like a sinking ship firing on the rescuers.
Once in pre-war days, when curiously-bonneted women drivers were familiar sights at the taxi-wheels, I cried out to one in my dismay: "Is there no speed limit in this mad city?"
"Oh, yes, monsieur," she answered sweetly over her shoulder, "but no one has ever succeeded in reaching it."
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