I've sold too many books to get good reviews anymore. There's a lot of jealousy, because [reviewers] think they can write a good novel or a best-seller and get frustrated when they can't. I've learned to despise them.
I've had diseases that lasted longer than my marriages.
People don't think of writers as sex objects. The women who write to me and suggest that we ought to have sex usually turn out to be, like, eighty. And their letters always end with, "Just joking."
Sure the body count in this movie bothers me, but what are you gonna do? It's what everybody likes. At least it's not an awful body count - it's a fun body count.
I'll be dead by the time I'm forty.
It's a drag having to wear socks during matches, because the tan, like, stops at the ankles. I can never get my skin, like, color coordinated.
Sometimes I feel like an old hooker.
We've become so glorified in the movie-star system that it's become this artificial royalty. The truth is that we're circus clowns.
My attitude about Hollywood is that I wouldn't walk across the street to pull one of those executives out of the snow if he was bleeding to death. Not unless I was paid for it. None of them ever did me any favors.
They shoulda called me Little Cocaine, I was sniffing so much of the stuff! My nose got big enough to back a diesel truck in, unload it, and drive it right out again.
With every smell, I smell food. With every sight, I see food. I can almost hear food. I want to spade the whole lot through my mouth at Mach 2. Basta!
If I could live my life over again, there is one thing I would change. I would want to be able to eat less.
When I die, my epitaph should read: She Paid the Bills. That's the story of my private life.
If I had any decency, I'd be dead. Most of my friends are.
We're an ideal political family, as accessible as Disneyland.
It really bothers me when I see people doing my mother in drag. I mean, just imagine if you saw people doing that with your mother.
My family was so poor the lady next door gave birth to me.
I have a face like the behind of an elephant.
I've actually gone to the zoo and had monkeys shout to me from their cages, "I'm in here when you're walking around like that?"
I have eyes like those of a dead pig.
The only parts left of my original body are my elbows.
Don't tell anyone. I'm supposed to be dumb.
I'm very uncomfortable with the idea of vaginas. They bother me in the way that spiders bother some people.
Those who are content have enough; those that complain, have too much.
Hast any philosophy in thee shepherd? .• • • • . . . He that wants money, means and content, is without three good friends; that the property of rain is to wet and fire to burn; that good pasture makes fat sheep, and a great cause of the night is lack of the sun; that he that hath learned no wit by nature nor art may complain of good breeding or comes of a very dull kindred.
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