Time may be a great healer, but it's a lousy beautician.
[Requesting her epitaph to read this way:] Excuse my dust.
Vice is nice, but liquor is quicker.
It turns out that, at social gatherings, as a source of entertainment, conviviality, and good fun, I rank somewhere between a sprig of parsley and a single ice-skate.
It's not the tragedies that kill us; it's the messes.
[Completely bored by a country weekend, wiring to a friend:] For heaven's sake, rush me a loaf of bread, enclosing saw and file.