It is one of the sublime provincialities of New York that its inhabitants lap up trivial gossip about essential nobodies they've never set eyes on, while continuing to boast that they could live somewhere for twenty years without so much as exchanging pleasantries with their neighbors across the hall.

It is the gossip columnist's business to write about what is none of his business.

One must never judge the writer by the man; but one may fairly judge the man by the writer.

Ours is the country where, in order to sell your product, you don't so much point out its merits as you first work like hell to sell yourself.

We might define an eccentric as a man who is a law unto himself, and a crank as one who, having determined what the law is, insists on laying it down to others.

The test of interesting people is that subject matter doesn't matter.

Highly educated bores are by far the worst; they know so much, in such fiendish detail, to be boring about.