“The cure for boredom is curiosity. There is no cure for curiosity.”

There is entirely too much charm around, and something must be done to stop it.

Love is like quicksilver in the hand. Leave the fingers open and it stays. Clutch it and it darts away.

Ridicule may be a shield, but it is not a weapon.

If you wear a short enough skirt, the party will come to you.

The Monte Carlo casino refused to admit me until I was properly dressed so I went and found my stockings, and then came back and lost my shirt.

By the time you swear you’re his, Shivering and sighing. And he vows his passion is, Infinite, undying. Lady make note of this — One of you is lying.

All I need is room enough to lay a hat and a few friends.

Money cannot buy health, but I’d settle for a diamond-studded wheelchair.

Writing well is the best revenge.

And if my heart be scarred and burned, The safer, I, for all I learned.

Writing is the art of applying the ass to the seat.

The only useful thing I ever learned in school was that if you spit on your eraser it erased ink.

I hate writing, I love having written.

Los Angeles: Seventy-two suburbs in search of a city.

Ducking for apples — change one letter and it’s the story of my life.

But I don’t give up; I forget why not.

A story with a moral appended is like the bill of a mosquito. It bores you, and then injects a stinging drop to irritate your conscience.

Conversation. What is it? A Mystery! It’s the art of never seeming bored, of touching everything with interest, of pleasing with trifles, of being fascinating with nothing at all.

I wanted to make good records. But my problem is I’ve got a low boredom threshold, so I wanted it to look and sound different with each album, which is really tantamount to suicide

unbroken happiness is a bore: it should have ups and downs.

I prefer an interesting vice to a virtue that bores.

Keep the child within alive. A child never tires of hearing the birds sing, never gets bored looking at flowers.

I would not miss your face, your neck, your hands, your limbs, your bosom and certain other of your charms. Indeed, not to become boring by naming them all, I could do without you, Chloe, altogether.

In the U.S., you have to be a deviant or die of boredom.