A thing that has always baffled me about women is that they will saturate themselves with a pint of perfume, a pound of sachet powder, an evil-smelling lip rouge, a peculiar-smelling hair ointment and a half-dozen varieties of body oils, and then have the effrontery to complain of the aroma of a fine dollar cigar.

I didn't like the play, but then I saw it under adverse conditions - the curtain was up.

Remember men, you are fighting for the ladies honor, which is probably more than she ever did.

I don't care to belong to a club that accepts people like me as members.

The only game I like to play is "Old Maid", providing she's not too old

If the garbage man calls, tell him we don't want any.

I know a member of one of New York's first families (first as you drive up Tenth Avenue)