S. J. Perelman

"Love is not the dying moan of a distant violin .. it's the triumphant twang of a bedspring. "

"Their the waiters' eyes sparkled and their pencils flew as she proceeded to eviscerate my wallet - pt, Whitstable oysters, a sole, filet mignon, and a favorite salad of the Nizam of Hyderabad made of shredded five-pound notes. "