London is satisfied, Paris is resigned, but New York is always hopeful.

Years are only garments, and you either wear them with style all your life, or else you go dowdy to the grave.

I had been fed, in my youth, a lot of old wives' tales about the way men would instantly forsake a beautiful woman to flock around a brilliant one. It is but fair to say that, after getting out in the world, I had never seen this happen." [From a column dated November 17, 1928]

I've finally gotten to the bottom of things.

Hell's afloat in lover's tears.

My first love was Cinderella, but she ran off with another man.

I don't mind anything that's written about me, as long as it's not true.