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

I have always wanted to be a man, if only for the reason that I would like to have gauged the value of my intellect.

His modesty amounts to deformity.

Although I am not stupid, the mathematical side of my brain is like dumb notes upon a damaged piano.

There are big men, men of intellect, intellectual men, men of talent and men of action; but the great man is difficult to find, and it needs --apart from discernment --a certain greatness to find him.

If you have been sunned through and through like an apricot on a wall from your earliest days, you are oversensitive to any withdrawal of heat.

[To her host upon leaving a party:] Don't think it hasn't been charming, because it hasn't.