California was almost entirely dream, a dream vague but deep in the…

Nothing can be done with people who put olives in martinis, presumably because in some desolate childhood hour someone refused them a dill pickle and so they go through life lusting for the taste of brine.

When evening quickens in the street, comes a pause in the day's occupation that is known as the cocktail hour.

The trouble with Reason is that it becomes meaningless at the exact point where it refuses to act.

You can no more keep a martini in the refrigerator than you can keep a kiss there. The proper union of gin and vermouth is a great and sudden glory; it is one of the happiest marriages on earth, and one of the shortest-lived. The fragile …

The trouble with the sacred Individual is that he has no significance except as he can acquire it from others, from the social whole.

This is the violet hour, the hour of hush and wonder, when the affections glow and valor is reborn, when the shadows deepen along the edge of the forest and we believe that, if we watch carefully, at any moment we may see the unicorn.