Edna Ferber

Christmas isn't a season. It's a feeling.

Being an old maid is like death by drowning, a really delightful sensation after you cease to struggle.

A closed mind is a dying mind.

I will not subject my wife, family or friends to the sadistic vitriol of yellow journalism. I will not dignify such journalism with a reply or an answer. I never will.

I sometimes give myself admirable advice, but I am incapable of taking it.

Recently, I was in Bernalda, my dad's ancestral home town in Italy. He has just refurbished a palazzo and turned it into a hotel, so we had my sister's wedding there. It was beautiful.