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.

I fell into writing, I suppose, being one of those awful children who wrote verses. I went to a convent in New York-the Blessed Sacrament... I was fired from there, finally, for a lot of things, among them my insistence that the Immaculate Conception was spontaneous combustion.

all men are the same age.

I don't mind anything that's written about me, as long as it's not true.

I might repeat to myself . . . a list of quotations from minds profound - if I can remember any of the damn things.

The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.

Flowers are heaven's masterpiece.