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.

If you know your Bible and your Shakespeare and can shoot craps, you have a liberal education.

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

(On seeing a former lover for the first time in years) I thought I told you to wait in the car.

Say anything about me, darling, as long as it isn't boring.

I've been called many things, but never an intellectual.