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More from Alexander Woollcott

I wonder if it can be possible that, behind this poor mask of disgust and under a steady barrage of abuse, I have ever really succeeded in concealing from you the fact that I look on you as one of the most enjoyable companions and the most admirable human beings it is my good fortune to know.

I’ve tried by tender and conscientious nursing to keep my grudge against you alive, but I find it has died on me.

I wish I could stand beside you at some window today and look out into the twilight and say nothing.

The play left a taste of lukewarm parsnip juice.

A hick town is one where there is no place to go where you shouldn’t be.