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

Because your eyes are slant and slow, Because your hair is sweet to touch, My heart is high again; but oh, I doubt if this will get me much.

Now, look, baby, 'Union' is spelled with 5 letters. It is not a four-letter word.

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.

If I had any decency, I'd be dead. Most of my friends are.

Her big heart did not, as is so sadly often the case, inhabit a big bosom.

[Completely bored by a country weekend, wiring to a friend:] For heaven's sake, rush me a loaf of bread, enclosing saw and file.