Oh, I haven't reached any peak. I hit the bottom in the '60s. When a certain actress undertook the leading role in a recent play of mine, she referred to me as "that old derelict." Not to my face, but behind my back.

I can't stand a naked light bulb, any more than I can a rude remark or a vulgar action.

The only thing worse than a liar is a liar that's also a hypocrite!

Is a lifetime long enough to hold the regret that I have for that fantastically aborted but crazily sweet love affair?

Devils can be driven out of the heart by the touch of a hand on a hand, or a mouth on a mouth.

It's interesting, isn't it? . . . the chandelier . . . it reminds me of mushroom soup.

The future is called 'perhaps,' which is the only possible thing to call the future. And the important thing is not to allow that to scare you.