Colliding with Clare Booth Luce in a doorway:
CBL: "Age before beauty."
DP (stepping aside): "Pearls before swine."

Colliding with Clare Booth Luce in a doorway:
CBL: "Age before beauty."
DP (stepping aside): "Pearls before swine."
Two Volume Novel
The sun's gone dim, and
The moon's turned black;
For I loved him, and
He didn't love back.
Resume
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
John Huston is doing something called, very simply, The Bible. Now you must admit that's a big job. I think he's going to stop with Moses because he can't stand another moment - he is playing Moses, you see.
Of the Yale prom:
"If all those sweet young things were laid end to end, I wouldn't be at all surprised."
Of her supersophisticated New York days:
We were gallant, hardriding and careless of life. We were little black eyes that had gone astray... A sort of Ladies' Auxiliary of the Legion of the Damned.
There were two things that would always bewilder her, she said: how a zipper worked and the exact function of Bernard Baruch.
Time doth flit,
Oh shit!
Travel, trouble, music, art
A kiss, a frock, a rhyme -
I never said they feed my heart
But still they pass the time.
Of an actress who, she was told, had fallen and broken a leg in London:
"Oh, how terrible. She must have done it sliding down a barrister."
Of her pet dog's mange:
"I suppose he got it from a lamp-post."
Resume
Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren't lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.
I like to think of my shining tombstone. It gives me, as you might say, something to live for.
Name for a pet parrot:
"Onan" (because he spilled his seed on the bottom of his cage.)
Leaving her place one day at the Algonquin Round Table:
"Excuse me, I have to go to the bathroom."
(pause)
"I really have to telephone, but I'm too embarassed to say so."
Her own epitaph:
"Excuse My Dust"
It's not the tragedies that trick us. It's the messes. I can't stand messes.
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The Small Hours
No more my little song comes back;
And now of nights I lay
My head on down, to watch the black
And wait the unfailing gray.
Oh, sad are winter nights, and slow;
And sad's a song that's dumb;
And sad it is to lie and know
Another dawn will come.
I require only three things of a man: he must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid.