“I’d rather be a failure at something I love than a success at something I hate.”

It takes only one drink to get me drunk. The trouble is, I can’t remember if it’s the thirteenth or the fourteenth.

I spent a year in that town, one Sunday.

You’ve got to be honest; if you can fake that, you’ve got it made.

Happiness is having a large, loving, caring, close-knit family in another city.

I’m at the age now where just putting my cigar in its holder is a thrill.

At my age flowers scare me.

If you live to be one hundred, you’ve got it made. Very few people die past that age.

First you forget names, then you forget faces. Next you forget to pull your zipper up and finally, you forget to pull it down.

I would go out with women my age, but there are no women my age.

You can’t help getting older, but you don’t have to get old.

Too bad that all the people who know how to run the country are busy driving taxicabs and cutting hair.

Don’t stay in bed, unless you can make money in bed.

How can I die? I’m booked.

Happiness? A good cigar, a good meal, a good cigar and a good woman – or a bad woman; it depends on how much happiness you can handle.

It’s good to be here. At 98, it’s good to be anywhere.

Everything that goes up must come down. But there comes a time when not everything that’s down can come up.