The first thing I do in the morning is brush my teeth and sharpen my tongue.

My first love was Cinderella, but she ran off with another man.

And there was that poor sucker Flaubert rolling around on his floor for three days looking for the right word.

The Monte Carlo casino refused to admit me until I was properly dressed so I went and found my stockings, and then came back and lost my shirt.

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

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

[On James Gould Cozzens' By Love Possessed:] It is a vast enterprise encompassing all sorts of love, except, naturally, those branches which extend to Jews, Negroes, and people who have lost track of their great-grandparents.