[On hearing that Clare Boothe Luce was invariably kind to her inferiors:] And where does she find them?

There is entirely too much charm around, and something must be done to stop it.

She will never win him, whose words had shown she feared to lose.

Drink and dance and laugh and lie, Love, the reeling midnight through, For tomorrow we shall die! (But, alas, we never do.)

People are more than fun than anybody.

I don't want to be classed as a humorist. It makes me feel guilty. I've never read a good tough quotable female humorist, and I never was one myself. I couldn't do it. A "smartcracker" they called me, and that makes me sick and unhappy. There's a hell of a distance between wisecracking and wit. Wit has truth in it; wisecracking is simply calisthenics with words.

all men are the same age.