They used to photograph Shirley Temple through gauze. They should photograph me through linoleum.

If I had to live my life again, I'd make the same mistakes, only sooner.

Wracked with a hangover I do my muttering over a Black Velvet, a union of champagne and stout. Don't be swindled into believing there's any cure for a hangover. I've tried them all: iced tomatoes, hot clam juice, brandy peaches. Like the common cold it defies solution. Time alone can stay it. The hair of the dog? That way lies folly. It's as logical as trying to put out a fire with applications of kerosene.

I have three phobias ...: I hate going to bed, get up and hate hate being alone.

In the theater lying is looked upon as an occupational disease.

There is less in this than meets the eye.

I detest acting because it is sheer drudgery.