Dear Mary: We all knew you had it in you.

You do what you can, and you do it because you should. But all you can do is all you can do.

Drink and dance and laugh and lie, Love, the reeling midnight through, For tomorrow we shall die! (But, alas, we never do.)

Quick!! Act as if nothing has happened!

[On hearing that Clare Boothe Luce was invariably kind to her inferiors:] And where does she find them?

[From a window in the Writer's Building at MGM, which overlooked a cemetery:] Hello down there. It might interest you to know that up here we are just as dead as you are.

[To the British actor who annoyed her by repeated references to his busy 'shedule':] I think you're full of skit.