I found the pearl of the Orient slightly less exciting than a rainy Sunday evening in Rochester.

A farm is an irregular patch of nettles bounded by short-term notes, containing a fool and his wife who didn't know enough to stay in the city.

The worst disgrace that can befall a producer is an unkind notice from a New York reviewer. When this happens, the producer becomes a pariah in Hollywood. He is shunned by his friends, thrown into bankruptcy, and like a Japanese electing hara-kiri, he commits suttee.

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

The main obligation is to amuse yourself.

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.

I found the pearl of the Orient slightly less exciting than a rainy Sunday evening in Rochester.