Innocence is a desirable thing, a dainty thing, an appealing thing, in its place; but carried too far, it is merely ridiculous.
One more drink and I'd have been under the host.
[On the ringing of her doorbell or telephone:] What fresh hell is this?
I don't mind anything that's written about me, as long as it's not true.
Prince or commoner, tenor or bass, Painter or plumber or never-do-well, Do me a favor and shut your face - Poets alone should kiss and tell.
Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.