Humorous Quotes from Groucho Marx's
Memoirs of a Mangy Lover

This book was written in those long hours I spent waiting for my wife to get dressed to go out. And if she had never gotten dressed at all this book would never have been written.

Anyone buying this book is going to be out a tidy sum if he is sucked in by the title. I wish I could write a real sexy book that would be barred from the mails. Apparently nothing whets a reader’s appetite for literature more than the news that the author has been thrown into a federal pokey for disturbing the libido of millions of Americans.

The truth is, if a young man doesn’t like girls it is more than likely that eventually an analyst will tell him (I mean after four years at thirty-five dollars a throw) that he is either in love with his mother, his father, or the boy next door.

I was in New York, single, handsome, and dressed to kill, which is the last thing I was interested in.

As in all good restaurants, the service at the Colony is slow and leisurely, and by the time the consommé arrived I had read the menu forty-six times. I can still repeat it from memory, word for word, especially the prices.

I never realized what dull company I was until I sat there alone. I had heard everything I had to say time and time again, and I was in no mood to listen to me again.

She was wearing a gold lame dress, golden sandals sans stockings, bright-red toe-nail polish, and her flaming red hair was topped off with a web of golden wires as high as an elephant’s eye. I thought to myself, “If this aerial is electrically equipped, I can easily pick up Moscow and tell Khrushchev what I think of him.

A man in my position (horizontal at the moment) is likely to hear strange stories about himself.

It was rumoured a few years ago that I made a pig of myself drinking champagne out of Sophia Loren’s slipper. This is sheer, slanderous nonsense. I am willing to concede that I tried to drink the bubbly stuff out of her slipper but she wouldn’t take the damn shoe off her foot.

Once, when I was a child, I was given a pair of guinea pigs which, with a little difficulty, I learned to love like brothers. Incidentally, learning to love my brothers was much more difficult.

The foods that are recommended today are as palatable as a steady diet of wet blotters.

All the elements of nature terrified the cave man. He shook with fear at the sight of lightning and when thunder roared he blamed it on the gods and wished that he could invent writing so he could write a letter to Dear Abby.

The early brute-man now had a language, which did much to make those long winter evenings bearable. Remember, he couldn’t take his woman to a theatre or club. The best he could do was take a club to his woman, but that wasn’t something that both of them could enjoy.

We now come to the Renaissance, but don’t ask me how. Actually, I meant to include this in a previous chapter but it took me all week to learn how to spell it.

Love had forged ahead so swiftly that in no time it had displaced agriculture as the leading industry of the period. To anyone who has tried both, this wont come as much of a surprise.

Queen Isabella of Spain, who was nuts about bearded sailors, agreed to supply him (Columbus) with three ships and eighty-eight men. This meant twenty-two quartets if they could all sing, or twenty-nine trios if they couldn’t.

He (Columbus) sailed on for sixty-two days and sixty nights (he lost two nights in the Azores in a poker game), and finally one bright morning a member of the crew sighted a branch of berries floating nearby. This meant land (or a marine fruit store).

For those of my readers who have never seen a guest, they are easily described. They are either tall or short, slightly run-down at the heels and come in all of the popular colours. A guest can be further identified as one who comes to your house by invitation. The one who comes without an invitation is either a black widow spider or a relative.

It is a matter of record that in 1959 I attended 336 parties, with invitations to more than twelve of them.

I know a member of one of New York’s first families (first as you drive up Tenth Avenue)

A black tie is always appropriate, provided you're wearing a collar. Tails, in my estimation, look good only on dogs.

He (The Real Gentleman) will never neck in a ballroom unless the dance floor is crowded, and he will make no attempt to kiss a young lady who has just yelled for a policeman. Obviously, a man in uniform has more romantic appeal than the rest of us in business suits.

On leaving a nightclub that’s been raided, who enters the wagon first – the lady or gentleman?

If you took two dozen cooked noodles and carelessly threw them on a cracked plate and then threw the whole thing out the window, you would have a fairly accurate idea of how the roads are laid out (in Bel Air).

In those days there was no television to assist one in ruining an evening, and other ways had to be found to while away the long, dreary nights between dinner parties. Sex had been discovered and abandoned by most of my friends.

I kept shouting for my five dollars and also for the Police ( in that order ), but I guess the Police were busy that night robbing a bank or two.

He (Chico) didn’t care anything about money except that he knew without it he couldn’t gamble, and if he couldn’t gamble life was just a bowl of saw dust.

Someone once asked him (Chico) how much money he had lost over the years. He said, “ Find out how much Harpo has. That’s how much I’ve lost !!”

Mr.Blank’s reputation as a card shark had preceded him. No one accused him of being dishonest, but on the other hand no one accused him of being honest.

As they drank he eyed her luscious assets with all the intensity of a cobra eyeing a fat chicken or a small boy looking into the window of a candy store.

Apparently she didn’t have much on when she arrived, but from the speed with which he stripped Mr.Schultz later observed that had she been a man, she would have made a heluva fireman.

As an obscure poet name Shakespeare so aptly put it, “All the world’s a stage,” and it seems as though everyone wants to be on it, front and center.

I believe that wives have a definite place in the home. They’re invaluable as mothers, and also for keeping you informed as to when the lady next door gets a new car, a new fur stole, or is taken out dancing.

Although I have a cook, I go to the supermarket myself and pick out the food that she will eventually ruin.

Obviously there was no point in being a bachelor if his houseman was going to filch his booze. If he was going to get robbed, he might just as well get married.

In France, for example, it is not unusual for a husband to have a wife and a mistress. However, if in addition to these two he’s also having a fling with a fringe tootsie, both the wife and the mistress are outraged and the combination lover, husband, and cheat may well wind up with a large French bread knife between his ribs.

If there ever was a contraption that needed improving, it’s the human body. If this current model is old Mother Nature’s masterpiece, obviously the old girl is little on the jerky side and needs a few years at a good engineering school.

Making love to your wife is like shooting at sitting ducks.

To write an autobiography of Groucho Marx would be as asinine as to read an autobiography of Groucho Marx.

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Humorous Quotes from Groucho Marx's Memoirs of a Mangy Lover

Have you checked out this super book? Click Here

Have you checked out this super book? Click Here

Humorous Quotes from Groucho Marx's
Memoirs of a Mangy Lover

Have you checked out
this super book?

Click Here

Have you checked out
this super book?

Click Here