When I was fourteen, my father decided to initiate me into the ways of manhood, and took me to the local whorehouse. The woman spread her legs, and made me look between them. All I could see was something that looked like a dyin' orchid; consequently, I have never been comfortable around women or orchids.

There is only one true aristocracy . . . and that is the aristocracy of passionate souls!

America has only three cities: New York, San Francisco, and New Orleans. Everywhere else is Cleveland.

And funerals are pretty compared to deaths.

I met her last summer on a moonlight boat trip.

Why is it so damn hard for people to talk?

Nothing's more determined than a cat on a hot tin roof.