Gentlemen, Chicolini here may talk like an idiot, and look like an idiot, but don't let that fool you: he really is an idiot. I implore you, send him back to his father and brothers, who are waiting for him with open arms in the penitentiary. I suggest that we give him ten years in Leavenworth, or eleven years in Twelveworth.

The admission fee was a viper's tongue and a half-concealed stiletto. It was a sort of intellectual slaughterhouse.

I was going to thrash them within an inch of their lives, but I didn't have a tape measure.

No man goes before his time - unless the boss leaves early.

Anyone who says he can see through women is missing a lot.

I never forget a face, but in your case I'll be glad to make an exception.

My favourite poem is the one that starts 'Thirty days hath September' because it actually tells you something.