You kissed me because you were awfully nice and I was awfully nice and we both liked kissing very much. It was inevitable.

For gin, in cruel sober truth, supplies the fuel for flaming youth.

How foolish to think that one can ever slam the door in the face of age. Much wiser to be polite and gracious and ask him to lunch in advance.

Someday I suspect, when Jesus has definitely got me for a sunbeam, my works may be adequately assessed.

I will accept anything in the theatre . . . provided it amuses or moves me. But if it does neither, I want to go home.

I have always been very fond of them (drama critics) . . . I think it is so frightfully clever of them to go night after night to the theatre and know so little about it.

Bed is the perfect climate.