Harpo, she's a lovely person. She deserves a good husband. Marry her before she finds one.
I was once thrown out of a mental hospital for depressing the other patients.
Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm schizophrenic, and so am I.
I don't drink. I don't like it. It makes me feel good.
In some situations I was difficult, in odd moments impossible, in rare moments loathsome, but at my best unapproachably great.
When I appeared before the draft board examiner during World War II, he asked me if I thought I could kill. "I don't know about strangers," I replied, "but friends, certainly."