Meanwhile, the minute you put on the dotted line your Sam Hancock - and before a notary - you'll not only get the negative but Elsie makes a wonderful stuffed cabbage which we'll include gratis a few portions but return the jars please.

You know, it's one thing about intellectuals, they prove that you can be absolutely brilliant and have no idea what's going on.

Why does man kill? He kills for food. And not only food: frequently there must be a beverage.

Sylvia Plath. Interesting poetess whose tragic suicide was misinterpreted as romantic by the college-girl mentality.

I don't why whatever works and whatever doesn't. You just make the film that you enjoy making at the time, and you think there's a good chance that people might enjoy the story. You're surprised pleasantly when they do. It's just luck.

When I get up in the morning, I go and I work with beautiful women and charming men and funny comedians and dramatic artists. And I'm presented with costumes and great music to choose from and sets. I travel a certain amount of places, so I've been living in a bubble. And I like it.

There's an old joke - um... two elderly women are at a Catskill mountain resort, and one of 'em says, "Boy, the food at this place is really terrible." The other one says, "Yeah, I know; and such small portions." Well, that's essentially how I feel about life - full of loneliness, and misery, and suffering, and unhappiness, and it's all over much too quickly.