What I do requires fantastic concentration... but you can't be totally alone, or you lose all contact with reality, so even when I'm engrossed and secluded, Jack Dunphy can be there. He's my oldest and best friend, and best critic too.

I just live one day at a time. That's my new theory in life.

Clocks indeed must have their sacrifice: what is death but an offering to time and eternity?

The way his plump hand clutched at her hip seemed somehow improper; not morally, aesthetically.

I haven't anything against whores, except this: some of them may have an honest tongue but they all have dishonest hearts.

And since gin to artifice bears the same relation as tears to mascara, her attractions at once dissembled.

It's bad enough in life to do without something YOU want; but confound it, what gets my goat is not being able to give somebody something you want THEM to have.