“And there was that poor sucker Flaubert rolling around on his floor for three days looking for the right word.”

“Now, look, baby, 'Union' is spelled with 5 letters. It is not a four-letter word.”

“His books are exciting and powerful and — if I may filch the word from the booksy ones — pulsing.”

“My love runs by like a day in June, And he makes no friends of sorrows. He'll tread his galloping rigadoon In the pathway of the morrows. He'll live his days where the sunbeams start, Nor could storm or wind uproot him. My own dear love, he is all my heart, -- And I wish somebody'd shoot him.”

“Three be the things I shall never attain: Envy, content, and sufficient champagne.”

“I require three things in a man: he must be handsome, ruthless, and stupid.”

“So, you're the man who can't spell 'fuck.'" Dorothy Parker to Norman Mailer after publishers had convinced Mailer to replace the word with a euphemism, 'fug,' in his 1948 book, "The Naked and the Dead.”