Do you know my dream? I really want to become an aluminum-siding salesman.

Democracy means that anyone can grow up to be president, and anyone who doesn't grow up can be vice president.

I'm not one of those who spring up yelling, "Yippee! Another day!" I'll grumble and sulk around a couple of hours, reading newspapers and trying to pick out an idea I might do something with on the show. But I don't really start functioning until noon or later; then about two I go to the studio and the pace begins to quicken.

I heard from my cat's lawyer today; my cat wants $12,000 a week for Tender Vittles.

There's only one critic whose opinion I really value, in the final analysis: Johnny Carson. I have never needed any entourage standing around bolstering my ego. I'm secure. I know exactly who and what I am. I don't need to be told. I make no apologies for being the way I am.

I know a man who gave up smoking, drinking, sex, and rich food. He was healthy right up to the day he killed himself.

Whatever you do, you're going to be criticized.