4 Quotes by J. Perelman

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

Under a forehead roughly comparable to that of Javanese and Piltdown man are visible a pair of tiny pig eyes, lit up alternately by greed and concupiscence.

A dreary industrial town controlled by hoodlums of enormous wealth, the ethical sense of a pack of jackals and taste so degraded that it befouled everything it touched.

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