All my friends are dying. That's why I always wear black.

I have no methods. All I do is accept people as they are.

You don’t marry for love. What does love got to do with marriage? I spit on love and marriage. You marry for money.

I'm telling you that at eight she knew more about reproduction than Xerox.

I have so little sex appeal that my gynecologist calls me "sir."

Every time I get on an airplane I figure it's gonna get blown up. You live on the edge.

I think actual death will be a lot easier than dying on stage. Cause - you know - if you do [actual death] right, you can go looking good. Maybe with a little quip [like]: 'I loved everybody.' But dying on stage...Oh, God!