It [humor] inhabits the marginal.

A satirist, often in danger himself, has the bravery of knowing that to withhold wit's conjecture is to endanger the species.

Rosalia is dressed in raven clothes forty years too old for her, so that she seems to be in mourning for her life.

[On John Cleese:] He sometimes seems to swat at his own thoughts as if they were bees.

Why is it that beautiful women never seem to have curiosity? Is it because they know they're classical? With classical things the Lord finished the job. Ordinary ugly people know they're deficient and they go on looking for the pieces.

Funniness is the wild card in the pack.

Movies have now reached the same stage as sex - it's all technique and no feeling.