You know, my father died of cancer when I was a teenager. He had it before it became popular.

I have discovered the secret formula for a carefree old age: iycri = fi (if you can't recall it, forget it).

Politics makes estranged bedfellows.

The best cure for hypochondria is to forget about your body and get interested in somebody else's.

Familiarity breeds attempt. Time wounds all heels. I went down on the Lower East Side today and saw all those Old Testament houses. We're all cremated equal. We're insufferable friends. I've been working my head to the bone.

You know, my father died of cancer when I was a teenager. He had it before it became popular.

TV—a clever contraction, derived from the words Terrible Vaudeville. We call it a medium, because nothing's well done.