Some American writers who have known each other for years have never met in the daytime or when both were sober.

Two is company, four is a party, three is a crowd. One is a wanderer.

Muggs was always sorry, Mother said, when he bit someone, but we could never understand how she figured this out. He didn't act sorry.

The past is an old armchair in the attic, the present an ominous ticking sound, and the future is anybody's guess.

Sophistication might be described as the ability to cope gracefully with a situation involving the presence of a formidable menace to one's poise and prestige (such as the butler, or the man under the bed - but never the husband).

Don't count your boobies until they are hatched.

The difference between our decadence and the Russians is that while theirs is brutal, ours is apathetic.