Robert Benchley
Robert Benchley
Robert Charles Benchleywas an American humorist best known for his work as a newspaper columnist and film actor. From his beginnings at the Harvard Lampoon while attending Harvard University, through his many years writing essays and articles for Vanity Fair and The New Yorker and his acclaimed short films, Benchley's style of humor brought him respect and success during his life, from New York City and his peers at the Algonquin Round Table to contemporaries in the burgeoning film industry...
NationalityAmerican
ProfessionJournalist
Date of Birth15 September 1889
CityWorcester, MA
CountryUnited States of America
If there is a streak of ham anywhere in an actor, Shakespeare will bring it out.
Every boy should have two things: a dog and a mother who lets him have one
A man of forty today has nothing to worry him but falling hair, inability to button the top button, failing vision, shortness of breath, a tendency of the collar to shut off all breathing, trembling of the kidneys to whatever tune the orchestra is playing, and a general sense of giddiness when the matter of rent is brought up. Forty is Life's Golden Age.
One of the chief duties of the fan is to engage in arguments with the man behind him. This department of the game has been allowed to run down fearfully.
This is a test. It is only a test. Had it been an actual job, you would have received raises, promotions, and other signs of appreciation.
A man may take care of a furnace for twenty-five years and still forget to duck his head when he starts going down the cellar stairs.
Breaking the ice in the pitcher seems to be a feature of the early lives of all great men.
I do most of my work sitting down; that's where I shine.
There are several ways to apportion the family income, all of them unsatisfactory.
The ideal age for a boy to own a dog is between forty-five and fifty.
New York - The city where the people from Oshkosh look at the people from Dubuque in the next theater seats and say "These New Yorkers don't dress any better than we do.
All that a spectator gets out of the game is fresh air, the comical articles in his program, the sight of twenty-two young men rushing about in mysterious formations, and whatever he brought in his flask.