I don't think my film style has changed. I'm doing the same kind of jokes I did when I was younger.

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

Life doesn't imitate art, it imitates bad television.

Once the movie's over, there's not much point. When the thing is edited, mixed, and color-corrected, and you've finished it... In my case, I never read anything about it, I never think about it.

I feel that humor, just like Fred Astaire dance numbers or these lightweight musicals, gives you a little oasis. You are in this horrible world and for an hour and a half you duck into a dark room and it's air-conditioned and the sun is not blinding you and you leave the terror of the universe behind and you are completely transported into an escapist situation. The women are beautiful, the men are witty and heroic, nobody has terrible problems and this is a delightful escapist thing, and you leave the theater refreshed.

I have no idea what I am doing but incompetence has never prevented me from plunging in with enthusiasm.

Time is nature's way of keeping everything from happening at once.