Men They hail you as their morning star Because you are the way you are. If you return the sentiment, They'll try to make you different; And once they have you, safe and sound, They want to change you all around. Your moods and ways they put a curse on; They'd make of you another person. They cannot let you go your gait; They influence and educate. They'd alter all that they admired. They make me sick, they make me tired.

[On the ringing of her doorbell or telephone:] What fresh hell is this?

People ought to be one of two things, young or dead.

If love is blind, why is lingerie so popular?

Now that you've got me right down to it, the only thing I didn't like about The Barrets of Wimplole Street was the play.

It was written without fear and without research.

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