As far as I'm concerned, the most beautiful word in the English language is "cellar-door".

As far as I'm concerned, the most beautiful word in the English language is "cellar-door".
Of Margot Asquith's four-volume autobiography:
"The affair between Margo Asquith and Margo Asquith will live as one of the prettiest love stories in all literature."
Her locks had been so frequently and so drastically brightened and curled that to caress them, one felt, would be rather like running one's fingers through julienne potatoes.
On being told at a Halloween party that people were ducking for apples:
"There, but for a single consonant, is the story of my life."
On seeing a worn-out toothbrush in their hostess's bathroom:
Fellow guest: "Whatever do you think she does with that?"
DP: "I think she rides it on Halloween."
Of the 1930s:
"They were progressive days. We thought we were going to make the world better - I forget why we thought it, but we did."
Time doth flit,
Oh shit!
Never trust a round garter or a Wall Street man.
Of trying to talk to someone who kept interrupting:
"Like riding on the Long Island railroad - it gets you nowhere in particular."
Words of Comfort to be Scratched on a Mirror
Helen of Troy had a wandering glance;
Sappho's restriction was only the sky;
Ninon was ever the chatter of France;
But oh, what a good girl am I!
Nickname for Alexander Woollcott's New York apartment:
"Wit's End."
Braggart
You will be frail and musty
With peering, furtive head,
While I am young and lusty
Among the roaring dead.
Of her job at Vanity Fair:
"My boss is an idiot, and the rest of the staff is four young men who go to pieces easily. Even when they're in the best of health, you have to stand on their insteps to keep them from flying away."
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Rhyme Against Living
If wild my breast and sore my pride,
I bask in dreams of suicide;
If cool my heart and high my head,
I think, "How lucky are the dead!"
General Review of the Sex Situation
Woman wants monogamy;
Man delights in novelty.
Love is woman's moon and sun;
Man has other forms of fun.
Woman lives but in her lord;
Count to ten, and man is bored.
With this the gist and sum of it,
What earthly good can come of it?
Isn't it a bit presumptuous of us to be alive now that Mr. Benchley is dead?
Of her pet dog's mange:
"I suppose he got it from a lamp-post."
Hazel Morse was a large, fair woman of the type that incites some men when they use the word "blonde" to click their tongues and wag their heads roguishly.