“I used to be scared of pretty girls, until one confessed they’re just as scared of me.”

Not everybody hates me. Only the people who’ve met me.

When I was a kid I used to pray every night for a new bicycle. Then I realised that the Lord doesn’t work that way so I stole one and asked Him to forgive me.

My first job as a kid was going from door to door selling Christmas cards, to raise money for my grandmother’s hip replacement. Because, you know… You break it, you buy it.

One man’s pet-stained carpet is another man’s Twister game.

My mother was like a sister to me, only we didn’t have sex quite so often.

I don’t know how electricity works. All I know is that it calms me.

A computer once beat me at chess, but it was no match for me at kick boxing.

I’m filthy stinking rich – well, two out of three ain’t bad.

Probably the toughest time in anyone’s life is when you have to murder a loved one because they’re the devil.

I think the whole concept of monotheism is a gift from the gods.

When I wake up in the morning, I just can’t get started until I’ve had that first, piping hot pot of coffee. Oh, I’ve tried other enemas.

I think fur looks better on an animal than on a human being. So I dress my dog in a mink teddy.

I’ve always had a special place in my heart for old women digging through garbage bins. They saved my life so many times as a baby.

Once I posed nude for a magazine. I’ve never been back to THAT newstand.

I told my wife she looks sexy with black fingernails. Now she thinks I slammed the car door on her hand on purpose.

People come up to me… concerned… that I’ll reproduce.

I never felt scandal and confession were necessary to be an actress. I’ve never revealed my self or even my body in films. Mystery is very important.

And now I have to confess the unpardonable and the scandalous. I am a happy man. And I am going to tell you the secret of my happiness. It is quite simple. I love mankind. I love love. I hate hate. I try to understand and accept.

The sea – this truth must be confessed – has no generosity. No display of manly qualities – courage, hardihood, endurance, faithfulness – has ever been known to touch its irresponsible consciousness of power.

It takes, unhappily, no more than a desk and writing supplies to turn any room into a confessional.

The Argument from Intimidation is a confession of intellectual impotence.

To suppose that the eye could have been formed by natural selection, seems, I freely confess, absurd in the highest possible degree

Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn’t matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you-that would be the real betrayal.

Half of what i say is meaningless.