My sister is a very peculiar lady. When we were young, I wasn't allowed to talk to her friends. Now I'm not allowed to talk to her children, nor are they permitted to see me. This is the nature of the lady. Doesn't bother me at all.

It seems there's just no room left for elegance in this paper-plate, blue-jean world. And I, for one, think it's a shame.

You know, I've had a helluva life.

I married first, won the Oscar before Olivia (sister Olivia de Havilland) did, and if I die first, she'll undoubtedly be livid because I beat her to it!

I hope I'll die on stage at the age at 105, playing Peter Pan.

[On her troubled relationships with her daughters:] You can acquire enemies. Why give birth to them?

The theater audience is the ultimate teacher, instructing the actor on the degree to which he has executed both the author's and the director's intent.