Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean the bastards aren't out to get you. ... Painters of paintings, writers of books, never could tell the half. In each scenario, you can depend on the end where the lovers agree. Where's my Lothario? Where does he roam, with his dome Vaselined as can be?

I took one look at you That's all I meant to do And my heart stood still.

Hate California--it's cold and it's damp.

The lovely loving and the hateful hates.

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

Unrequited love's a bore.

Painters of paintings, writers of books, never could tell the half.