Something that simply mystifies me.

I don't know anyone who sits down to write a song hit except Irving Berlin. He can't help writing hits.

Birds do it, bees do it, even educated fleas do it; let's do it, let's fall in love.

In olden days a glimpse of stocking was looked on as something shocking. Now, Heaven knows, anything goes. The world has gone mad today, and good's bad today, and black's white today, and day's night today.

All the inspiration I ever needed was a phone call from a producer.

All the world loves a clown.

Don't hit the person across from you with bits of toast, And don't, when dinner is nearly through, say 'Who's the host' It isn't done.