Once the love bug wears off, as it inevitably does, you are shocked to discover that you really didn't know the object of your affections at all. We know this to be so, even as we repeat the same mistake over and over and over.

One begins to realize that one is getting old when the birthday candles weigh more than the cake.

There may be a heaven, but if Joan Crawford is there, I'm not going.

What a fool I was to come to Hollywood where they only understand platinum blondes and where legs are more important than talent.

Without discipline and detachment, an actor is an emotional slob, spilling his insides out. This abandonment is having an unfortunate vogue. It is tasteless, formless, absurd. Without containment there is no art. All this vomiting and wheezing and bursting at the seams is no more great acting than the convulsions of raving maniacs.

Pray to God and say the lines.

I was thought to be 'stuck up.' I wasn't. I was just sure of myself. This is and always has been an unforgivable quality to the unsure.