Where Would The Rockefellers Be Today If

I Guess I'm Just An Old Mad Scientist At Bottom. Give Me An Underground Laboratory, Half A Dozen Atom-smashers, And A Beautiful Girl In A Diaphanous Veil Waiting To Be Turned Into A Chimpanzee, And I Care Not Who Writes The Nation's Laws.

Freedley: Will I Feel Better After I Take It? Dr. Fitch (coldly): I, Am A Physician, Freedley, Not An Astrologer. If You Want A Horoscope, There's A Gypsy Tearoom Over On Lexington Avenue.

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.

We Old Roosters Must Be Cautious. Don't Try To Outwit Your Arteries.

There Are Nineteen Words In Yiddish That Convey Gradations Of Disparagement, From A Mild, Fluttery Helplessness To A State Of Downright, Irreconcilable Brutishness. All Of Them Can Be Usefully Employed To Pinpoint The Kind Of Individuals I Write About.