In all those types of films I wore a tan suit, a grey suit, a beige suit and then a negligee for the seventh reel near the end when I would admit to my best friend on the telephone that what I really wanted was to become a little housewife.

I'll match my flops with anybody's but I wouldn't have missed 'em.

Do you know what makes a movie work? Moments. Give the audience half a dozen moments they can remember, and they'll leave the theatre happy.

Life is a banquet, and most poor suckers are starving to death.

Success is a public affair. Failure is a private funeral.

Moments. A couple of moments that people remember, that they can take with them, is what makes a good movie.

Taste. You cannot buy such a rare and wonderful thing. You can't send away for it in a catalogue. And I'm afraid it's becoming obsolete.