I could have spread my wings and done a thousand things I've never done before.

It's not a pretty face, I grant you. But underneath its flabby exterior is an enormous lack of character.

Pleasure without joy is as hollow as passion without tenderness.

Coughing in the theater is not a respiratory ailment. It is a criticism.

Back home everyone said I didn't have any talent. They might be saying the same thing over here, but it sounds better in French.

Mud can make you prisoner and the plains can make you dry. Snow can burn your eyes but only people make you cry.

A schedule so tight that it would only work if I didn't sleep on Monday nights.