Who is this Baby Ruth? And what does she do?

I sold flowers. I didn't sell myself. Now you've made a lady of me I'm not fit to sell anything else.

Our prejudices are so deeply rooted that we never think of them as prejudices but call them common sense.

Be like the sun and meadow, which are not in the least concerned about the coming winter.

I can't turn your soul on. Leave me those feelings; and you can take away the voice and the face. They are not you.

We are not taught to think decently on sex subjects, and consequently we have no language for them except indecent language.

I occasionally swank a little because people like it; a modest man is such a nuisance.