In my long and colorful career, one thing stands out: I have been misunderstood.
Love is like a booger, you pick and pick at it. Then when you get it you wonder how to get rid of it.
I used to be Snow White, but I drifted.
I'd like to see Paris before I die.
Tira begins to sing "I'm No Angel" to him as the screen fades: Baby, I can warm you with this love of mine. I'm No Angel. Aw, let me feel my fingers running through your hair, I can give you kisses. . . .
It's all right for a perfect stranger to kiss your hand as long as he's perfect.