Life is all memory, except for the one present moment that goes by you so quickly you hardly catch it going.

I gave up visiting my psychoanalyst because he was meddling too much in my private life.

Why is it so damn hard for people to talk?

Perhaps the most vivid recollection of my youth is that of the local wheelmen, led by my father, stopping at our home to eat pone, sip mint juleps, and flog the field hands. This more than anything cultivated my life-long aversion to bicycles.

The trouble with this world is that everybody has to compromise and conform.

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.

Glass breaks so easily. No matter how careful you are.