Debbie Reynolds is as wistful as an iron foundry.
Roses are red, violets are blue, I'm schizophrenic, and so am I.
I'm a self-made man. Who else would help?
An epigram is only a wisecrack that's played at Carnegie Hall.
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."
I'm going to memorize your name and throw my head away.