“It’s not that comedy has changed in terms of what’s funny. For me, it’s changed in that sometimes I don’t feel my finger is on the pulse.”

And two balls minus one, six titles at the tour de France.

You made one mistake. You married me.

I have a total irreverence for anything connected with society except that which makes the roads safer, the beer stronger, the food cheaper and the old men and old women warmer in the winter and happier in the summer.

Every cripple has his own way of walking.

I’m into sincerity in music and sincerity in art. If it doesn’t feel true, I don’t want to do it. Things that are too dramatic scare me. I think that’s why I don’t always fit into the world of performing arts.

Whatever you hold in contempt is your jailer.

I was court-martialled in my absence, and sentenced to death in my absence, so I said they could shoot me in my absence.

A general and a bit of shooting makes you forget your troubles … it takes your mind off the cost of living.

Most horror movies are certainly that.

I’m a Communist by day and a Catholic as soon as it gets dark.

The big difference between sex for money and sex for free is that sex for money usually costs a lot less.

I saw a notice that said “Drink Canada Dry” and I’ve just started.

An author’s first duty is to let down his country.

Network selectively. Nothing says “business newbie” like shotgun networking. “You never know when someone might say yes” is marketing for dummies.

It strikes! one, two, Three, four, five, six. Enough, enough, dear watch, Thy pulse hath beat enough. Now sleep and rest; Would thou could’st make the time to do so too; I’ll wind thee up no more.

The heart wakens from coma and its dyspnea ends. Its strengthening pulse is to cross over into campground, to believe that the world has not been altogether lost or, if lost, then not altogether in vain.

Like every other means of expression, photography, if it is to be utterly honest and direct, should be related to the life of the times-the pulse of today.

One feels a quickening of the pulse when one crosses a border.

Love is a second life; it grows into the soul, warms every vein, and beats in every pulse.

Our own pulse beats in every stranger’s throat.

Deep down, fundamentally, we are the ‘unborn’. We never came into being and we never go out of being. All of these coming and goings are just pulses in the pattern