Next time I see you, remind me not to talk to you.
Why should I care about posterity? What's posterity ever done for me?
I hope they bury me near a strait man
Bel Air, I am convinced, was laid out by some diabolic sadist who deliberately decided not to use a compass or a surveyor.
When discovered by his wife, kissing the maid, Groucho said, "I was just whispering in her mouth"
I did toy with the idea of doing a cook-book. . . . I think a lot of people who hate literature but love fried eggs would buy it if the price was right.