“A smile is a curve that sets everything straight.”

I’m eighteen years behind in my ironing. There’s no use doing it now, it doesn’t fit anybody I know.

By far the most common craving of pregnant women is not to be pregnant.

Burt Reynolds once asked me out. I was in his room.

Comedy is tragedy revisited.

Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past forgotten and his present remembered.

Tranquilizers work only if you follow the advice on the bottle – keep away from children.

The best contraceptive for old people is nudity.

The only thing my husband and I have in common is that we were married on the same day.

Most children threaten at times to run away from home. This is the only thing that keeps some parents going.

You know you’re old if they have discontinued your blood type.

The reason women don’t play football is because 11 of them would never wear the same outfit in public.

We spend the first twelve months of our children’s lives teaching them to walk and talk and the next twelve telling them to sit down and shut up.

My own laugh is the real thing and I’ve had it all my life.

Remember there is no way you can give the father custody of the children without getting a divorce.

I spent seven hours in a beauty shop… and that was for the estimate.

I was so wrinkled I could screw my hats on.

I hung my fingertips on his waistband, tugging him closer. Patch buried his face in the curve of my shoulder, his hands flexing over my back. He gave a low groan. “i love you,” he murmured into my hair. “i’m happier right now than i ever remember being.

I don’t have the body for this,” i quipped, lifting my chin to a voluptous woman nearby who shook her hips zealously to the beat. “no curves.” jev’s eyes held mine. “are you asking my opinion?

What is straight? A line can be straight, or a street, but the human heart, oh, no, it’s curved like a road through mountains.

I could smell the curves of the river beyond the dusk and I saw the last light supine and tranquil upon tideflats like pieces of broken mirror, then beyond them lights began in the pale clear air, trembling a little like butterflies hovering a long way off.

I used to think I was hitting a draw at times, and the ball was still curving to the right! I still prefer to play a little fade, but I’ve had to recalibrate my visuals.

Evolution is a light illuminating all facts, a curve that all lines must follow.

I had plenty of power, and I knew how to play the curve, but I was a tour player who was watching his tee shots peel 30, 40 yards to the right.

The breaking wave and the muscle as it contracts obey the same law. Delicate line gathers the body’s total strength in a bold balance. Shall my soul meet so severe a curve, journeying on its way to form?