The other night I ate at a real family restaurant. Every table had an argument going on.
I read recipes the same way I read science fiction. I get to the end and think, "Well, that's not going to happen."
Critics are the little people who come onto the battlefield after the war and shoot all the wounded.
I've got the body of a 20-year-old . . . and is he gonna be p-o'd when he finds out what I did to it!
I feel that I've aged like a bottle of fine wine. Of course, my cork is a little loose.
How is it one careless match can start a forest fire, but it takes a whole box to get the fireplace going?
In the 60's people took acid to make the world weird. Now the world is weird and people take Prozac to make it normal.
Why does a slight tax increase cost you $200 and a substantial tax cut save you thirty cents?
All of us could take a lesson from the weather. It pays no attention to criticism.
Whenever I feel blue, I start breathing again.