. . . the poet, while creating anew, is likely to be in a sense restoring something old.
Progress was all right. Only it went on too long.
Two is company, four is a party, three is a crowd. One is a wanderer.
We are a nation that has always gone in for the loud laugh, the wow, the yak, the belly laugh, and the dozen other labels for the roll- em-in-the-aisles gagerissimo. This is the kind of laugh that delights actors, directors, and producers, but dismays writers of comedy because it is the laugh that often dies in the lobby. The appreciative smile, the chuckle, the soundless mirth, so important to the success of comedy, cannot be understood unless one sits among the audience and feels the warmth created by the quality of laughter that the audience takes home with it.
If I have any beliefs about immortality, it is that certain dogs I have known will go to heaven, and very, very few persons.
Let me be the first to admit that the naked truth about me is to the naked truth about Salvador Dali as an old ukulele in the attic is to a piano in a tree, and I mean a piano with breasts. Senor Dali has the jump on me from the beginning. He remembers and describes in detail what it was like in the womb. My own earliest memory is of accompanying my father to a polling booth in Columbus, Ohio, where he voted for William McKinley.
One martini is all right. Two are too many, and three are not enough.
It's one of those unforgettable moments that happen as a child, when you discover that all along the world has been betraying you.
Oh yes. I'm an actor, so I just learn my lines, and show up and do it. I gave it a little bit of thought.
My son has followed fashion since he was a punk. He and I agree that fashion is about sex.
Sometimes the highest form of action is inaction.