Come to me and show me a small cancer and I'll tell you you've got a small cancer that should be cut out. That's realism but in America it's called cynicism.

If you are at the mercy of what they call print interviews and the mercy of people who write about you, they can always tell lies.

I might become an ascetic, live in India. A little rice is about the best I can do now.

I don't deny or affirm anything. I'm not very personal.

I can understand companionship. I can understand bought sex in the afternoon, but I cannot understand the love affair.

There is hardly an American male of my generation who has not at one time or another tried to master the victory cry of the great ape as it issued from the androgynous chest of Johnny Weissmuller, to the accompaniment of thousands of arms and legs snapping during attempts to swing from tree to tree in the backyards of the Republic.

I suppose my liking for Italy is partly atavism, my family are of the old Roman stock. They came from the Alps north of Venice.