Friends come and go but I wouldn't have thought you'd be one of them

[On being shown an apartment by a real estate agent:] Oh, dear, that's much too big. All I need is room enough to lay a hat and a few friends.

Scratch a king and find a fool!

I hate writing, I love having written.

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.

That would be a good thing for them to cut on my tombstone: Wherever she went, including here, it was against her better judgment.

[Requesting her epitaph to read this way:] Excuse my dust.