Everybody's got their troubles.

Sometimes I think I'll give up trying, and just go completely Russian and sit on a stove and moan all day.

The nowadays ruling that no word is unprintable has, I think, done nothing whatever for beautiful letters. ... Obscenity is too valuable a commodity to chuck around all over the place; it should be taken out of the safe on special occasions only.

We were all imitative. We all wandered in after Miss Edna St. Vincent Millay. We were all being dashing and gallant, declaring we weren't virgins, whether we were or not.

Woman wants monogamy; Man delights in novelty. Love is woman's moon and sun; Man has other forms of fun. Woman lives but in her lord; Count to ten, and man is bored. With this the gist and sum of it, What earthly good can come of it?

Every year, back comes Spring, with nasty little birds yapping their fool heads off and the ground all mucked up with plants.

Don't feel bad when I die; I've been dead for a long time.