There is nothing more perplexing in life than to know at what point you should surrender your intellect to your faith.

From the happy expression on their faces you might have supposed that they welcomed the war. I have met with men who loved stamps, and stones, and snakes, but I could not imagine any man loving war.

His modesty amounts to deformity.

I do not say I was ever what I would call "plain," but I have the sort of face that bores me when I see it on other people.

She spends her day powdering her face till she looks like a bled pig.

It is not dying, but living, that is a preparation for Death.

[To Jean Harlow, who repeatedly mispronounced her first name:] No, no, Jean. The t is silent, as in Harlow.