“A hospital bed is a parked taxi with the meter running.”

Any place I hang my head is home.

Everyone must believe in something. I believe I’ll have another beer.

We left New York drunk and early on the morning of February second.

Well, art is art, isn’t it? Still, on the other hand, water is water!

The trouble with writing a book about yourself is that you can’t fool around.

My mother loved children – she would have given anything if I had been one.

Man does not control his own fate. The women in his life do that for him.

If you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce, they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does.

Either this man is dead or my watch has stopped.

I’ve got a good mind to go out and join a club and beat you over the head with it.

Marriage is a wonderful institution, but who wants to live in an institution?

If you write about yourself the slightest deviation makes you realize instantly that there may be honor among thieves, but you are just a dirty liar.

I wouldn’t want to belong to a club that would have me as a member.

Room service? Send up a larger room.

Some people claim that marriage interferes with romance. There’s no doubt about it. Anytime you have a romance, your wife is bound to interfere.

I have nothing but respect for you and not much of that.

Accidentally consumed five biscuits when I wasn’t paying attention. Those biscuits are wily fellows – they leap in like sugary ninjas.

It is disgusting – Why must we have bodies?

Tobacco is my favorite vegetable.

Jazz isn’t dead. It just smells funny.

The funny thing is, the more you know, the more passionate you feel about life, and the more joy you feel, and the more inspired you feel, but then also the more disgusted you are with humanity […] [this is] the paradox of life.

Justin Timberlake is everything, and what more could you want in a person? He’s funny. He’s cute. He’s great. He just understands. I get him and he gets me, and that’s cool.

Never make a decision when you need to pee.

Homeboy was the apple of my eye, now he’s the onion that makes me cry.