I Am Deeply Superficial.

I Thought I Was Making Fifty Dollars A Week [at Mgm], But It Turned Out To Be $35 Because Twelve Weeks Of The Year You Were On Layoff. It Was White Slavery, And It Lasted For Seventeen Years.

I Want To Remember It All, The Good Times And The Bad Times, The Late Nights, The Boozing, The Dancing Into Dawns, And All The Great And Not-so-great People I Met And Loved In Those Years.

I Dealt With Men Who Had Tempers, And Who Could Get Violent-lord Knows How I Had To Defend Myself Against Howard Hughes And Frank Sinatra, And From Artie Shaw's Verbal Abuse. But George [c. Scott] Was A Different Category Of Animal When He Got Drunk. He'd Break Into My Hotel Room, Which He Did In Italy, London And At The Beverly Hills Hotel, Attack Me To Where I Was Frightened For My Life, And Scream, 'why Won't You Marry Me?' Well, I Would Never Marry A Man Who Couldn't Control His Liquor. Me, I'm A Happy Drunk. I Laugh, I Dance. I Certainly Don't Break Bottles And Threaten To Kill.

I Couldn't Imagine A Better Place [australia] For Making A Film On The End Of The World.

For The Loot, Honey, For The Loot.