Jacqueline Susann Quotes

I've got a library copy of Gone with the Wind, a quart of milk and all these cookies. Wow! What an orgy!

Never judge anyone by another's opinions. We all have different sides that we show to different people.

People parted, years passed, they met again- and the meeting proved no reunion, offered no warm memories, only the acid knowledge that time had passed and things weren't as bright or attractive as they had been.

Love shouldn't make a beggar of one. I wouldn't want love if I had to beg for it, to barter or qualify it. And I should despise it if anyone ever begged for my love. Love is something that must be given -- it can't be bought with words or pity, or even reason.

Never let anyone shame you into doing anything you don't choose to do. Keep your identity.

Yes, there's one thing I do want. I want to be aware of the minutes and the seconds, and to make each one count.

Everyone has an identity. One of their own, and one for show.

A man must feel he runs things, but as long as you control yourself, you control him.

When you're climbing Mount Everest, nothing is easy. You just take one step at a time, never look back and always keep your eyes glued to the top.

No one should give up a dream without giving it a chance to come true.

Money bought freedom; without it one could never be free.

Alone on the summit of Mount Everest.

each time it would hurt less, and afterward she would love Lyon less, until one day there would be nothing left — no hurt, and no love. She

She was climbing Mount Everest and the air was invigorating and wonderful. Even if every second verged on crisis, this was part of living - not just watching from the sidelines.

Close friendships with girls come early in life. After thirty it becomes harder to make new friends — there are fewer hopes, dreams or anticipations to share.

Do not measure the number of tragedies you sustain, but to quantify the success you derive from them.

Everyone should at least try to do the thing he wants to do. Later in life situations and responsibilities force people to compromise. But to compromise now...it's like quitting before you start.

I don't think any novelist should be concerned with literature…literature should be left to essayists.

...when you’re young you think you’ll always be young. Then one day you suddenly wake up and you’re over fifty. And the names in the obituary columns are no longer anonymous old people. They’re your contemporaries and friends.

Neely O'Hara: [drunk in a bar] Who's stoned? I am merely traveling incognito.

Before I came to New York I lived here, in this mausoleum. I was nothing. I was dead. When I came to New York it was like a veil lifting. For the first time I felt I was alive, breathing.

Remember, the most important thing in the world is to have a man who loves you.

Did money give people a blind spot? Rob them of their hearing?

giving a party was not as simple as going to one. You could always leave someone else’s party. You were stuck with your own.

Helen Lawson: They drummed you out of Hollywood, so you come crawling back to Broadway. But Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope. Now get out of my way, I've got a man waiting for me.

Helen Lawson: The only hit that comes out of a Helen Lawson show is Helen Lawson, and that's ME, baby, remember?

Love is something that must be given — it can’t be bought with words or pity, or even reason.

guess a woman can either love or be loved, but it’s almost impossible to have both.

There’s one thing I do want. I want to be aware of the minutes and the seconds, and to make each one count . . . You realize that time is the most precious thing. Because time is life. It’s the only thing you can never get back.

And suddenly you recall all the senseless time-wasting things you’ve done . . . the wasted minutes you’ll never recover. And you realize that time is the most precious thing. Because time is life. It’s the only thing you can never get

Do not measure the number of tragedies you suffer, quantify the success derived from the.

Close friendships with girls come early in life. After thirty it becomes harder to make new friends —there are fewer hopes, dreams or anticipations to share.

Many girls enjoyed kissing men they didn’t love. It was supposed to be normal.

They drummed you out of Hollywood, so you come crawling back to Broadway. But Broadway doesn't go for booze and dope. Now get out of my way, I've got a man waiting for me.

Os homens irão deixar-te, a tua beleza irá desaparecer, os teus filhos irão crescer e partir e tudo o que pensaste ser a tua vida irá azedar; a única coisa com que podes contar é contigo mesma e com o teu talento.

Later in life situations and responsibilities force people to compromise. But to compromise now . . . it’s like quitting before you start.

So what? You're no worse off than if you hadn't asked. At least this way you give yourself a fifty-fifty chance

And so he accepted her frigidity as the normal attribute of a lady, and being a gentleman, he expected nothing more.

Something’s happening to this country. We’re going to go immoral. And television is doing it.

It sneaks up on you, Anne-the habit. And after all emotion is gone and logic takes over, the habit is still there. For the rest of your life,

Listen, all I ask in the next life is to come back as a beautiful broad,

Yes, my uterus was removed — peritonitis had set in. But it is wonderful. I am no longer bothered with the monthly period.

Age settled with more grace on ordinary people, but for celebrities — women stars in particular — age became a hatchet that vandalized a work of art.

There was an acceptance at face value in New York, as if everyone had just been born, with no past heritage to acknowledge or hide.

And I eat what I please. Geez, I weigh a hundred and sixty, but who cares? And Anne — I sing. Christ, I sing like a fucking canary.

Anne felt sad. People parted, years passed, they met again — and the meeting proved no reunion, offered no warm memories, only the acid knowledge that time had passed and things weren’t as bright or attractive as they had been.

The girl was undeniably beautiful. She was tall, with a spectacular figure. Her white dress, shimmering with crystal beads, was cut low enough to prove the authenticity of her remarkable cleavage. Her long hair was almost white in its blondeness. But it was her face that held Anne’s attention, a face so naturally beautiful that it came as a startling contrast to the theatrical beauty of her hair and figure. It was a perfect face with a fine square jaw, high cheekbones and intelligent brow. The eyes seemed warm and friendly, and the short, straight nose belonged to a beautiful child, as did the even white teeth and little-girl dimples. It was an innocent face, a face that looked at everything with breathless excitement and trusting enthusiasm, seemingly unaware of the commotion the body was causing. A face that glowed with genuine interest in each person who demanded attention, rewarding each with a warm smile. The body and its accouterments continued to pose and undulate for the staring crowd and flashing cameras, but the face ignored the furor and greeted people with the intimacy of meeting a few new friends at a gathering.

What about television?" a young man asked. "It's an octopus. It's no longer just a little box, it's the Love Machine." "Why the Love Machine?" a reporter asked. "Because it sells love. It creates love. Presidents are chosen by their appeal on that little box. It's turned politicians into movie stars and movie stars into politicians. It can you engaged if you use a certain mouthwash. It claims you'll have women hanging on your coattails if you use a certain hair cream. It tells the kids to eat their cereal if they want to be like their baseball idol. But like all great lovers, the Love Machine is a fickle bastard. It has great magnetism--but it has no heart. In place of a heart beats a Nielsen rating. And when the Nielsen falters, the program dies. It's the pulse and heart of the twentieth century--The Love Machine.

Pensa-se de dia – a – dia. Se começamos a pensar no futuro, no nosso futuro pessoal, perdemos a coragem. E, de repente, lembramo-nos de todas as coisas que fizemos e que foram um desperdício de tempo… os minutos que desperdiçámos e que nunca podemos reaver. E apercebemo-nos de que o tempo é a coisa mais preciosa de todas. Porque o tempo é a vida. É a única coisa que nunca podemos recuperar. É possível perder uma rapariga e quem sabe voltar a conquistá-la… ou encontrar outra. Mas um segundo, este segundo, quando se vai, é irreversível.

She sat by the kitchen window. It was a clear night. Airplanes circled in from the west. Beyond the East River, the city spread out like a twinkling carpet. Every light was a story, and every story was a woman, someone who was perhaps just like her: waiting for happiness, waiting for the dream of the city to come true. A million women, having a drink or taking a doll, looking out of their windows, thinking about the man who had left or maybe the man who was just around the corner. The airplanes looked so tiny in the distance. She realized she had no idea what kept them aloft. You just got on, and decided not to be afraid.

My sisters and I giggled at “Dance: Ten; Looks: Three” (“Tits and ass / bought myself a fancy pair / tightened up the derriere”) while our parents sat in the front of the car—my father at the wheel, my mom in the passenger seat—both distracted and nonplussed. We flipped through the Jacqueline Susann and Harold Robbins hardbacks in my grandmother’s bookshelf and watched The Exorcist on the Z Channel (the country’s first pay-cable network that premiered in LA in the mid-’70s) after our parents sternly told us not to watch it, but of course we did anyway and got properly freaked out. We saw skits about people doing cocaine on Saturday Night Live, and we were drawn to the allure of disco culture and unironic horror movies. We consumed all of this and none of it ever triggered us—we were never wounded because the darkness and the bad mood of the era was everywhere, and when pessimism was the national language, a badge of hipness and cool. Everything was a scam and everybody was corrupt and we were all being raised on a diet of grit. One could argue that this fucked us all up, or maybe, from another angle, it made us stronger. Looking back almost forty years later, it probably made each of us less of a wuss. Yes, we were sixth and seventh graders dealing with a society where no parental filters existed. Tube8.com was not within our reach, fisting videos were not available on our phones, nor were Fifty Shades of Grey or gangster rap or violent video games, and terrorism hadn’t yet reached our shores, but we were children wandering through a world made almost solely for adults. No one cared what we watched or didn’t, how we felt or what we wanted, and we hadn’t yet become enthralled by the cult of victimization. It was, by comparison to what’s now acceptable when children are coddled into helplessness, an age of innocence.

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But it's different with a man. You don't expect him to be a virgin.

It will get better --- I promise you." Would it? Would she ever shudder and tremble and stiffen with the ecstasy she had felt? It didn't matter. All that mattered was Lyon, to hold him in her arms, to please him --- to know that she could feel love, that this remarkable man wanted her body against his...

I want to be aware of the minutes and the seconds, and to make each one count.

She fastened her attention on the taxi window as they drove crosstown. It was one of those last wonderful days in October, when the air is balmy and the faded sun tries to pretend it's spring.

The long evenings sitting in the large, clean kitchen with Mother and Aunt Amy. Or the occasional trips to the movies, or the bowling alley, ot to play bridge. O God, she prayed, thank You for giving me the strength to run. Never make me go back - never!

Talk, nothing. You marry him! Maybe I’ll come live with you if Hit the Sky bombs.

There is no such thing as love, the way you talk about it. You’ll only find that kind of love in cheap movies and novels. Love is companionship, having friends in common, the same interests. Sex is the connotation you’re placing on love, and let me tell you, young lady, that if and when it does exist, it dies very quickly after marriage — or as soon as the girl learns what it’s all about.

She was filled with a sense of expectancy — as if at any moment something very wonderful could happen.

I gave Lawrenceville twenty years. That's long enough for any small town.

Whenever I get stuck on a man you can be sure he's some kind of a louse.

For the first time she understood her mother's fear of poverty. Money bought freedom; without it one could never be free. In Spain she could live luxuriously and wear beautiful clothes, but she belonged to Maria. If she returned to Cleveland she faced a different kind of imprisonment - marriage to some third-rate man who would also demand the use of her body. Whichever way you looked at it, without money, you were someone's captive.

Yes, there’s one thing I do want. I want to be aware of the minutes and the seconds, and to make each one count.

-Gardez-la, garce. J'ai les moyens d'en acheter d'autres. Mais vous, vous en aurez besoin. Mettez la au clou, ou, mieux, portez la. Qu'elle vous entre dans la chair à chaque fois qu'un type vous baisera comme vous m'avez baisé. J'ai l'intuition que Lyon Burke sera le premier d'une longue série.

she couldn’t offer sympathy to a girl who regarded the incident as a stroke of marvelous luck. “Well,

I've got a library copy of Gone with the Wind, a quart of milk and all these cookies. Wow! What an orgy!

New York you forgot how cold and bleak winter could be. The neon lights, the moving crowds, the taxi-filled streets stampeded the snow into slush and the slush into gray water that quickly disappeared and you forgot about the bare, desolate ground of the outside world. The loneliness of winter. The

Never judge anyone by another’s opinions. We all have different sides that we show to different people.

there’s one thing I do want. I want to be aware of the minutes and the seconds, and to make each one count.

Robin, a mother really loves her children only if she loves them enough to let go. I didn't have children as annuities against loneliness in my old age. They were part of my youth—the wonderful thing I had with your father. Now they must have their youth and their children.

The boy was giving homosexuality a crazy kind of dignity.

Ike Ryan had a theory about making a girl become part of an orgy. You make her do it with you, then with a friend while you watch, then with another girl—and by then you've cut her down to size. Once she's gone along with that scene, she can't play games—none of that "send me flowers" jazz. You've reduced her to what every woman is, once you've stripped off the fancy manners: a broad.