the problems of three little people in a big world don't add up to much

(On Bette Davis) Even when I was carrying a gun, she scared the be-jesus out of me.

It is at least worth arguing that there is a modicum of the creative novelist in all of us, and that this absorption with how men get out of difficulties, single-handedly and alone if possible, is the stuff of which we weave the warp and woof of our own better dramatic imaginings.

I was born when you kissed me. I died when you left me. I lived a few weeks while you loved me.

I let my drinking do the talking.

The whole world is about three drinks behind.

There are certain sections of New York, Major, that I wouldn't advise you to try to invade.