I told my doctor, "I've swallowed a bottle of sleeping pills" and he told me to have a few drinks and get some rest.

When I was forty, I was getting divorced, living in a low-class, dirty hotel in New York. My mother was dying of cancer. I owed $20,000. That was about the lowest. I came back to show business, and I couldn't get a job. I was turned down by every small-time agent in New York.

Oh, when I was a kid in show business I was poor. I used to go to orgies to eat the grapes.

With girls I get no respect. A belly dancer told me I turned her stomach.

I knew a girl so ugly, she had a face like a saint-a Saint Bernard!

Last week I told my psychiatrist, 'I keep thinking about suicide', and he told me from now I have to pay in advance.

I was so poor growing up...if I wasn't a boy...I'd have nothing to play with.