I've Often Felt That Life Is A

What If Nothing Exists And We're All In Somebody's Dream? Or What's Worse, What If Only That Fat Guy In The Third Row Exists?

How Does Gravity Work? And If It Were To Cease Suddenly, Would Certain Restaurants Still Require A Jacket?

I Always Write The Same Way. I Always Write With A Yellow Pad And A Ballpoint Pen On My Bed. And Then I Go And Type It Up Afterwards. I've Always Done That. Those Things Become Habitual.

There's Nothing Sexier Than A Lapsed Catholic.

I Feel That Humor, Just Like Fred Astaire Dance Numbers Or These Lightweight Musicals, Gives You A Little Oasis. You Are In This Horrible World And For An Hour And A Half You Duck Into A Dark Room And It's Air-conditioned And The Sun Is Not Blinding You And You Leave The Terror Of The Universe Behind And You Are Completely Transported Into An Escapist Situation. The Women Are Beautiful, The Men Are Witty And Heroic, Nobody Has Terrible Problems And This Is A Delightful Escapist Thing, And You Leave The Theater Refreshed.