Ideals, my dear Golightly, are the root of every evil. When a man…

... there was never a woman so ill-suited to public life as I am. I have had to whip myself, as it were, into society, and the loneliness of it all has been terrific.

There is no misery quite so wearing as the misery of a false position. It seems to slay the body and the soul.

People get to like a soul, but a satisfactory hat makes an impression at first sight.

A statesman's words, like butcher's meat, should be well weighed.

We must know the measure of a man's desires before we can sound the depth of his regrets.

Reader. But where are the Unities? Author. In life there are no Unities, but three Incomprehensibles: Destiny, Man, and Woman.