Jesus, I love you. Jesus, I love you.
Here am I, dying of a hundred good symptoms.
Everybody has got to die, but I have always believed an exception would be made in my case.
Better is the sinner who hath thoughts about God, than the saint who hath only the show of sanctity.
Do you hear the rain? Do you hear the rain?
Why not? After all, it belongs to him.
I shall look forward to a pleasant time.
I owe much; I have nothing; the rest I leave to the poor.
Die? I should say not, dear fellow. No Barrymore would allow such a conventional thing to happen to him.
I knew it. I knew it. Born in a hotel room - and God damn it - died in a hotel room.
Show my head to the people. It is worth seeing.
I am curious to see what happens in the next world to one who dies unshriven.
Good people are always so sure they're right.
All my possessions for a moment of time.
Let me go to the house of the Father.
Dammit. . . Don't you dare ask God to help me.
Goodnight my darlings, I'll see you tomorrow.
I'm tired of being the funniest person in the room.
I've just had eighteen straight whiskies. I think that's the record.
Can you still have any famous last words if you're somebody nobody knows?
