The story of my life is about back entrances, side doors, secret elevators and other ways of getting in and out of places so that people won't bother me.

There is no one who would have me - I can't cook.

I'm afraid of NOTHING except being bored!

There are many things in your heart you can never tell to another person. They are you, your private joys and sorrows, and you can never tell them. You cheapen yourself, the inside of yourself, when you tell them.

I have made enough faces.

I live like a monk: with one toothbrush, one cake of soap, and a pot of cream.

Gimme a visky with a ginger ale on the side - and don't be stinchy, beby.