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

There must be a magnificent disregard of your reader, for if he cannot follow you, there is nothing you can do about it.

It may be that this autobiography [Aimee Semple McPherson's] is set down in sincerity, frankness, and simple effort. It may be, too, that the Statue of Liberty is situated in Lake Ontario.

I won't telephone him. I'll never telephone him again as long as I live. He'll rot in hell, before I'll call him up. You don't have to give me strength, God; I have it myself. If he wanted me, he could get me. He knows where I am. He knows I'm waiting here. He's so sure of me, so sure. I wonder why they hate you, as soon as they are sure of you.

[On being told their loquacious, domineering host was 'outspoken':] By whom?

Once I was coming down a street in Beverly Hills and I saw a Cadillac about a block long, and out of the side window was a wonderfully slinky mink, and an arm, and at the end of the arm a hand in a white suede glove wrinkled around the wrist, and in the hand was a bagel with a bite out of it.

Oh, both my shoes are shiny new, And pristine is my hat My dress is 1922… My life is all like that.