Go to the Martin Beck Theatre and watch Katherine Hepburn run the gamut of emotions from A to B.

He lies below, correct in cypress wood, And entertains the most exclusive worms.

I'm not a writer with a drinking problem, I'm a drinker with a writing problem.

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.

I can’t write five words but that I change seven.

This play John Drinkwater's Abraham Lincoln holds the season's record, thus far, with a run of four evening performances and one matinee. By an odd coincidence, it ran just five performances too many.

Salary is no object: I want only enough to keep body and soul apart.