Marriage is like a war. There are moments of chivalry and gallantry that attend the victorious advances and strategic retreats, the birth or death of children, the momentary conquest of loneliness, the sacrifice that ennobles him who makes it. But mostly there are the long dull sieges, the waiting, the terror and boredom. Women understand this better than men; they are better able to survive attrition.

Egocentrics are attracted to the inept. It gives them one more excuse for patting themselves on the back.

Stardom can be a gilded slavery.

The old-fashioned idea that the simple piling up of experiences, one on top of another, can make you an artist, is, of course, so much rubbish. If acting were …

No thyng ys to man so dere As wommanys love yn gode manere. A gode womman is mannys blys.

And still to love, though prest with ill, In wintry age to feel no chill, With me is to be lovely still, My Mary!

To 'catch' a husband is an art; to 'hold' him is a job.