“Love and business and family and religion and art and patriotism are nothing but shadows of words when a man’s starving!”

There is this difference between the grief of youth and that of old age; youth’s burden is lightened by as much of it as another shares; old age may give and give, but the sorrow remains the same.

I’ve got some of my best yarns from park benches, lamp posts and newspaper stands.

This fair but pitiless city of Manhattan was without a soul its inhabitants were manikins moved by wires and springs.

He studied cities as women study their reflections.

There is one day that is ours. Thanksgiving Day is the one day that is purely American.

You can’t appreciate home till you’ve left it, money till it’s spent, your wife till she’s joined a woman’s club, nor Old Glory till you see it hanging on a broomstick on the shanty of a consul in a foreign town.

Each of us, when our day’s work is done, must seek our ideal, whether it be love or pinochle or lobster à la Newburg, or the sweet silence of the musty bookshelves.

History is bright and fiction dull with homely men who have charmed women.

Men to whom life had appeared as a reversible coat – seamy on both sides.

When a man begins to be hilarious in a sorrowful way you can bet a million that he is dyeing his hair.

He seemed to be made of sunshine and blood-red tissue and clear weather.

By nature and doctrines I am addicted to the habit of discovering choice places wherein to feed.

All great men have declared that they owe their sucess to the aid and encouragement of some brilliant woman.

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.

She plucked from my lapel the invisible strand of lint (the universal act of woman to proclaim ownership).

A good story is like a bitter pill, with the sugar coating inside of it.

Starve your distractions, feed your focus.

Ladies of Fashion starve their happiness to feed their vanity, and their love to feed their pride.

So thirsty,” Jack groaned. “So worried,”said the frog. I hope we don’t starve to death.” “Yes,”said Jill, “not starving to death would be nice.”

Bold knaves thrive without one grain of sense, But good men starve for want of impudence.

There are millions and millions of people who are thrown in the midst of poverty and starvation. Animals don’t die of starvation, only human beings.

I feel eternal pain for those who were killed by Hitler, but I feel no less pain for those killed on Stalin’s orders. I suffer for everyone who was tortured, shot, or starved to death.

Often the wicked prosper, while the righteous starve; yet I would never exchange my state for theirs, my virtue for their gold. For mine endures, while riches change their owner every day.

Today’s films are so technological that an actor becomes starved for roles that deal with human relationships.