I Don't Have An Assistant. I Make

Maybe The Tragedy Of The Human Race Was That We Had Forgotten That We Are Each Divine.

I Wasn't Afraid Of Getting Old, Because I Was Never A Great Beauty.

I Watched My Head Rolling On The Floor. It Landed Face Up And A Big Tear Came Out Of One Eye.

The Mob Taught Me How To Play Gin Rummy.

For If The Talent Or Individuality Is There, It Should Be Expressed. If It Doesn't Find Its Way Out Into The Air, It Can Be Turned Inward And Gnaw Like The Fox At The Spartan Boy's Belly.