I don't like people," said Velvet. "... I only like horses.

Why do birds sing in the morning? It's the triumphant shout: 'We got through another night!'

But I had been in love pretty often and I didn't think it stood the wear and tear.

The theatre is a gross art, built in sweeps and over-emphasis. Compromise is its second name.

When a man goes through six years training to be a doctor he will never be the same. He knows too much.

Judges don't age. Time decorates them.

The Press blew, the public stared, hands flew out like a million little fishes after bread.