You can't appreciate home till you've left it, money till it's spent, your wife till she's joined a woman's club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town.

Greenwich Village... the village of low rents and high arts.

We can't buy one minute of time with cash; if we could, rich people would live longer.

[A]ll of life, as we know it, moves in little, unavailing circles. More justly than to anything else, it can be likened to the game of baseball. Crack! we hit the ball, and away we go. If we earn a run (in life we call it success) we get back to the home plate and sit upon a bench. If we are thrown out, we walk back to the home plate -- and sit upon a bench.

Turn up the lights. I don't want to go home in the dark.

We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us.

Life is made up of sobs, sniffles, and smiles, with sniffles predominating.