If you have any young friends who aspire to become writers, the second-greatest favor you can do them is to present them with copies of The Elements of Style. The first-greatest, of course, is to shoot them now, while they're happy.

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

Summer makes me drowsy. Autumn makes me sing. Winter's pretty lousy, but I hate Spring.

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

Never throw mud: you can miss the target, but your hands will remain dirty.

[On hearing that President Coolidge was dead:] How can you tell?

On being told of the death of former President Calvin Coolidge: How could they tell?