With the collapse of vaudeville new talent has no place to stink.
I spent a year in that town, one Sunday.
At my age flowers scare me.
You can’t help getting older, but you don’t have to get old.
Young. Old. Just Words.
I don’t care what you do for a living. If you love it, you are a success.
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.
Retire? I’m going to stay in show business until I’m the only one left.
Fall in love with what you’re going to do for a living. To be able to get out of bed and do what you love to do for the rest of the day is beyond words. I’d rather be a failure in something I love than be successful in something I hate.
Everything that goes up must come down. But there comes a time when not everything that’s down can come up.
I get up every morning and read the obituary column. If my name’s not there, I eat breakfast.
I find you have to take each day as it comes and be thankful for who’s left and whatever you can still do.
I never go jogging, it makes me spill my martini.
Young. Old. Just words. Inside we feel like our shoe size.
In those days the best painkiller was ice; it wasn’t addictive and it was particularly effective if you poured some whiskey over it.
There are two kinds of cruises – pleasure and with children.
As long as you’re working, you stay young.
There’s nothing wrong with making love with the light on. Just make sure the car door is closed.
If I paid $3 or $4 for a cigar, first I’d sleep with it.
When I die I intend to take my music with me. I don’t know what’s out there, but I want to make sure it’s in my key.