“The idiot who invented instant grits also thought of frozen fried chicken, and they ought to lock him up before he tries to freeze-dry collards.”

Mama had an appreciation of the language. She taught me a love of words, of how they should be used and how they can fill a creative soul with a passion and lead to a life’s work.

Kinky sex involves the use of duck feathers. Perverted sex involves the whole duck.

Spring time is the land awakening.

Elvis is dead and I don’t feel so good for myself.

Life is like a dogsled race. If you ain’t the lead dog, the scenery never changes.

I get letters from people who say, ‘What have you got against women?’ What could I possibly have against women? I’ve married three of them.

If you are not the lead dog, your scenery never changes.

Yankees don’t understand that the Southern way of talking is a language of nuance. What we can do in the South is we can take a word and change it just a little bit and make it mean something altogether different.

There’s no such thing as being too Southern.

There’s nothing inherently dirty about sex, but if you try real hard and use your imagination you can overcome that.

I know lots of people who are educated far beyond their intelligence.

Sex hasn’t been the same since women started enjoying it.

Money doesn’t grow on trees, and if it did somebody else would own the orchard.

You call to a dog and a dog will break its neck to get to you. Dogs just want to please. Call to a cat and its attitude is, ‘What’s in it for me?’

Life is a sexually transmitted terminal disease.

The game of life is a lot like football. You have to tackle your problems, block your fears, and score your points when you get the opportunity.

He’s one fry short of a Happy Meal.