I loathe writing. On the other hand I'm a great believer in money.

"In France," Marcel said with wintry dignity, "accidents occur in the bedroom, not the kitchen."

The main obligation is to amuse yourself.

I'm half Scotch-Irish on both sides, and when I lose my temper-brother, I go.

In my more pompous moments I like to think of myself as a writer rather than a humorist, but I suppose that's merely the vanity of advancing age.

I cannot recall a more engaging passage in fiction, and I've been trying for almost eighteen seconds.

Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin - it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring.