I Can’t Explain What I Mean. And

I Don't Know About Bores. Maybe You Shouldn't Feel Too Sorry If You See Some Swell Girl Getting Married To Them. They Don't Hurt Anybody Most Of Them, And Maybe They're All Terrific Whistlers Or Something. Who The Hell Knows? Not Me.

I Can Be Quite Sarcastic When I'm In The Mood.

It Is My Rather Subversive Opinion That A Writer's Feelings Of Anonymity-obscurity Are The Second Most Valuable Property On Loan To Him During His Working Years.

Your Heart, Bessie, Is An Autumn Garage.

I Can’t Explain What I Mean. And Even If I Could, I’m Not Sure I’d Feel Like It.