I privately say to you, old friend... please accept from me this unpretentious bouquet of early-blooming parentheses: (((()))).

If you do something too good, then, after a while, if you don't watch it, you start showing off. And then you're not as good any more.

Oh, I don’t know. That digression business got on my nerves. I don’t know. The trouble with me is, I like it when somebody digresses. It’s more interesting and all.

One day a long time from now you'll cease to care anymore whom you please or what anybody has to say about you. That's when you'll finally produce the work you're capable of.

She worries over the way her love for me comes and goes, appears and disappears. She doubts its reality simply because it isn't as steadily pleasurable as a kitten. God knows it is sad. The human voice conspires to desecrate everything on earth.

They didn't act like people and they didn't act like actors. It's hard to explain. They acted more like they knew they were celebrities and all. I mean they were good, but they were too good.

Nobody who's really using his ego, his real ego, has any time for any goddam hobbies