I always felt people who took themselves seriously were kind of boring.

You do a movie [where] you like the script [and] it has something to say that you care about. And there are certain people in this industry that you kind of stick with. Guys like [“The Congressman” producer] Fred Roos. They call you, and if you’re not working, that’s what you do.

I'm not saying it's safe to go sit out in the sun all day but I don't believe that sun is bad for you.

While I put forth the suntan and the teeth and the cavalier attitude, I've survived under the worst of eras and times, and I've always had a good time doing it, because I never really took myself seriously, nor did I take life seriously because it is already terribly serious.

To my mind, there are no unattractive women; only those who haven't been awakened by love . . . A woman is often like a strip of film-obliterated, insignificant-until a man puts the light behind her.

And in reaching out and doing these new things you get into this strange kind of shape where you are better off than if you were just resting, because you're using things that wouldn't otherwise be mute.

I found a movie called “Light in the Piazza.” I finally made the movie with Olivia de Havilland and myself, but initially there was no way I could make that movie, so I went to work on becoming that character. They told me they had an Italian [actor], and I said, “That’s a Cuban boy!” His name was Tomas Milan. I thought that’s the craziest thing I’d ever heard: They have a Cuban who’s going to play an Italian, and I can’t play it because I’m an American.