I can't talk about Hollywood. It was a horror to me when I was there and it's a horror to look back on. I can't imagine how I did it. When I got away from it I couldn't even refer to the place by name. ''Out there,'' I called it.
I give her sadness and the gift of pain, a new moon madness and a love of rain.
Trapped like a trap in a trap
[When asked what was the inspiration for most of her work:] Need of money, dear.
[To woman bragging about having kept her husband for seven years:] Don't worry, if you keep him long enough, he'll come back in style.
Civilization is coming to an end, you understand.
[On Kay Strozzi in The Silent Witness:] Miss Strozzi ... had the temerity to wear as truly horrible a gown as ever I have seen on the American stage. ... Had she not luckily been strangled by a member of the cast while disporting this garment, I should have fought my way to the stage and done her in, myself.
If, with the literate, I am Impelled to try an epigram, I never seek to take the credit; We all assume that Oscar said it.
On lady novelists: As artists they're rot, but as providers they're oil wells; they gush. Norris said she never wrote a story unless it was fun to do. I understand Ferber whistles at her typewriter.
I know that there are things that never have been funny, and never will be. And I know that ridicule may be a shield, but it is not a weapon.
The plot is so tired that even this reviewer, who in infancy was let drop by a nurse with the result that she has ever since been mystified by amateur coin tricks, was able to guess the identity of the murderer from the middle of the book.
Yes, well, let me tell you that if nobody had ever learned to quote, very few people would be in love with La Rochefoucauld. I bet you I don't know ten souls who read him without a middleman.
The ones I like are ‘cheque’ and ‘enclosed.’
It may be that this autobiography [Aimee Semple McPherson's] is set down in sincerity, frankness, and simple effort. It may be, too, that the Statue of Liberty is situated in Lake Ontario.
They say of me, and so they should, It's doubtful if I come to good. I see acquaintances and friends Accumulating dividends And making enviable names In science, art and parlor games. But I, despite expert advice, Keep doing things I think are nice, And though to good I never come Inseparable my nose and thumb.
Hell's afloat in lover's tears.
Gertrude Stein did us the most harm when she said, 'You're all a lost generation.' That got around to certain people and we all said, 'Whee! We're lost.
[Requesting her epitaph to read this way:] Excuse my dust.
I wouldn't touch a superlative again with an umbrella.
The affair between Margot Asquith and Margot Asquith will live as one of the prettiest love stories in all literature.
Anthologists are lazy fellows who like to spend a quiet evening at home raiding good books.
I like to think of my shining tombstone. It gives me, as you might say, something to live for.
In the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the world and sky are one, He shall ride the silver seas, He shall cut the glittering wave. I shall sit at home, and rock; Rise, to heed a neighbor's knock; Brew my tea, and snip my thread; Bleach the linen for my bed. They will call him brave.
If I don't drive around the park, I'm pretty sure to make my mark. If I'm in bed each night by ten, I may get back my looks again. If I abstain from fun and such, I'll probably amount to much; But I shall stay the way I am, Because I do not give a damn.
This must be a gift book. That is to say a book, which you wouldn't take on any other terms.
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