When someone hands you a flier it's like they're saying, Here, you throw this away.

Time spent in the advertising business seems to create a permanent deformity like the Chinese habit of foot-binding.

I do not read advertisements. I would spend all my time wanting things.

The people who flood our living-rooms with a smorgasbord of commercial messages about fetid breath, moist underarms and troubled intestines know this: an appropriate time, place and manner to sell a product is any that sells the product.

The modern Little Bed Biding Hood, reared on singing commercials, has no objection to being eaten by the wolf.

Good times, bad times, there will always be advertising. In good times, people want to advertise; in bad times, they have to.

I think that I shall never see a billboard lovely as a tree.

Is it not clear that a product which must spend fortunes advertising, drawing attention to itself, is probably not one we need?

When the client moans and sighs Make his logo twice the size. If he still should prove refractory, Show a picture of his factory. Only in the gravest cases Should you show the clients' faces.

Doing business without advertising is like winking at a girl in the dark: you know what you are doing, but nobody else does.

What is a self-image? Who started talking about one? I rather fancy it was Madison Avenue.

The advertiser is the overrewarded court jester and court pander at the democratic court.

Promise, large promise, is the soul of an advertisement.

Advertisements are now so numerous that they are very negligently perused, and it is therefore become necessary to gain attention by magnificence of promises, and by eloquences sometimes sublime and sometimes pathetic.

Back in the days when American billboard advertising was in flower [said Hemingway], there were two slogans that I always rated above all others: the old Cremo Cigar ad that proclaimed, Spit Is a Horrid Word-but Worse on the end of Your Cigar, and Drink Schlitz in Brown Bottles and Avoid that Skunk Taste. You don't get creative writing like that any more.

There, in the window of a freshly painted clapboard building, just off the road, a bewitching and seductive red neon sign spoke to him in a universal tongue: COCA-COLA, it announced, COCA-COLA, and he went faint with gastric epiphany.

You can tell the ideals of a nation by its advertisements.

The advertisements in a newspaper are more full of knowledge in respect to what is going on in a state or community than the editorial columns are.

Half the money I spend on advertising is wasted, and the trouble is I don't know which half.

The deeper problems connected with advertising come less from the unscrupulousness of our deceivers than from our pleasure in being deceived, less from the desire to seduce than from the desire to be seduced.