My unhealthy affection for my second daughter has waned. Now I despise all my seven children equally.

For in that city [New York] there is neurosis in the air which the inhabitants mistake for energy.

Beware of writing to me. I always answer ... My father spent the last 20 years of his life writing letters. If someone thanked him for a wedding present, he thanked them for thanking him and there was no end to the exchange but death.

Of children as of procreation -- the pleasure momentary, the posture ridiculous, the expense damnable

I'm quite deaf now; such a comfort.

They are a very decent generous lot of people out here and they don't expect you to listen.... It's the secret of social ease in this country. They talk entirely for their own pleasure. Nothing they say is designed to be heard.

No one could really hate a saint, could they? They can't really hate God either. When they want to Hate Him and His saints they have to find something like themselves and pretends it's God and hate that.