O ay, letters - I had letters - I am persecuted with letters - I hate letters - nobody knows how to write letters; and yet one has 'em, one does not know why - they serve one to pin up one's hair.

A woman only obliges a man to secrecy, that she may have the pleasure of telling herself.

All well bred persons lie - Besides, you are a woman; you must never speak what you think.

Let us be very strange and well-bred:Let us be as strange as if we had been married a great while;And as well-bred as if we were not married at all.

Mr Witwould: "Pray, madam, do you pin up your hair with all your letters? I find I must keep copies." Mrs Millamant: "Only with those in verse.... I never pin up my hair with prose."

I find we are growing serious, and then we are in great danger of being dull.

To find a young fellow that is neither a wit in his own eye, nor a fool in the eye of the world, is a very hard task.