My Aunt Minnie would always be punctual and never hold up production, but who would pay to see my Aunt Minnie?

Love is the hardest thing in the world to write about. So simple. You've got to catch it through details, like the early morning sunlight hitting the gray tin of the rain spout in front of her house. The ringing of a telephone that sounds like Beethoven's "Pastoral." A letter scribbled on her office stationery that you carry around in your pocket because it smells of all the lilacs in Ohio.

I had one life. And what did I do? Wasted it in some palooka preliminaries in Spain, just before Hitler and Chamberlain warm up for the main event.

You're as good as the best thing you've ever done.

What critics call dirty in our pictures, they call lusty in foreign films.

I have ten commandments. The first nine are, thou shalt not bore. The tenth is, thou shalt have right of final cut.

I hate that word. It's return--a return to the millions of people who've never forgiven me for deserting the screen.