There is such a thing as too much couth.

Where would the Rockefellers be today if old John D. had gone on selling short-weight kerosene ... to widows and orphans instead of wisely deciding to mulct the whole country.

I used to pride myself on being impervious to the sentimentalities of soap opera, but when that loveliest of actresses, Rachel Gurney, of Upstairs, Downstairs, perished on the Titanic, I wept so convulsively and developed such anorexia that I had to be force-fed.

The dubious privilege of a freelance writer is he’s given the freedom to starve anywhere.

Tomatoes and squash never fail to reach maturity. You can spray them with acid, beat them with sticks and burn them; they love it.

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

Fate was dealing from the bottom of the deck.