One more drink and I'd have been under the host.
Accursed from their birth they be Who seek to find monogamy, Pursuing it from bed to bed— I think they would be better dead.
Yet, as only New Yorkers know, if you can get through the twilight, you'll live through the night.
Eternity is a ham and two people.
For a few minutes, everything is so cute that the mind reels.... And then, believe it or not, things get worse. So I shot myself.
The Swiss are a neat and an industrious people, none of whom is under seventy-five years of age.
Go to the Martin Beck Theatre and watch Katherine Hepburn run the gamut of emotions from A to B.
Oh, life is a glorious cycle of song
Guido Natso is natso guido.
Into love and out again, Thus I went and thus I go. Spare your voice, and hold your pen: Well and bitterly I know All the songs were ever sung, All the words were ever said; Could it be, when I was young, Someone dropped me on my head?
The nowadays ruling that no word is unprintable has, I think, done nothing whatever for beautiful letters. The boys have gone hog-wild with liberty, yet the short flat terms used over and over, both in dialogue and narrative, add neither vigor nor clarity; the effect is not of shock but of something far more dangerous — tedium.
Somebody was using the pencil.
I wanted to be cute. That's the terrible thing. I should have had more sense.
Four things I am wiser to know: Idleness, sorrow, a friend, and a foe.
Everybody's got their troubles.
It takes me six months to do a story. I think it out and then write it sentence by sentence - no first draft. I can't write five words but that I change seven.
Men They hail you as their morning star Because you are the way you are. If you return the sentiment, They'll try to make you different; And once they have you, safe and sound, They want to change you all around. Your moods and ways they put a curse on; They'd make of you another person. They cannot let you go your gait; They influence and educate. They'd alter all that they admired. They make me sick, they make me tired.
Love is like quicksilver in the hand.
London is satisfied, Paris is resigned, but New York is always hopeful. Always it believes that something good is about to come off, and it must hurry to meet it.
Perhaps it suddenly brought to us the sense of change. Or irresponsibility. But don't forget that, though the people in the twenties seemed like flops, they weren't. Fitzgerald, the rest of them, reckless as they were, drinkers as they were, they worked damn hard and all the time.
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?
There was a reason for the cost of those perfectly plain black dresses.
Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat My dress is 1922… My life is all like that.
Some men break your heart in two, Some men fawn and flatter, Some men never look at you; And that cleans up the matter.
[On Edna Ferber's Ice Palace] ... the book, which is going to be a movie, has the plot and characters of a book which is going to be a movie.
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