Once you're in, you're in. It's like the Mafia. Once a Monkee, always a Monkee.
I like tall girls because I like someone to look up to.
I'd like a glass of cold gravy with a hair in it, please.
Do you fear death? Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare. All your sins punished. I can offer you...an escape.
The Monkees are like the mafia. You're in for life. Nobody gets out.
Ah, love. A dreadful bond! And yet, so easily severed.
I only bet on what's dearest to a man's heart. Else there is no way to tell if he's bluffing. What a man is willing to risk or not to risk, that's a measure of his soul.
I would say that fifty percent of my show is killer comedy.
The only people who didn't like it [The Monkees] were the French, and they don't even like themselves, so what's the point?
It's not about what you have, it's what people think you have.
Justin Bieber stole my haircut. And Axl Rose stole my dance!
Are you prepared for what's next?
The Beatles set the rules. And the rules were: now just because we have long hair doesn't mean that we're rebellious.
The Dutchman sails as its captain commands!
My family is a part of my life and everything is all a mixture of enjoyment.
It used to be 65 when you went into retirement. Before that, when you got into your 50s, you were getting older.
I never slept alone until I was married.
Before I was an actor I was an apprentice jockey, and now I'm out there racing against boys, sort of the spokesperson for people over 50 that they can do it.
I'm a married man. If I want sex at this particular point in my life, I go home for it.
The racing bug is never going to go away. It's like the Mafia.
I guess it's nice to have someone to love while you're looking for someone to love.
Around the property I have here, I'm about to put an all weather race track. I'm about to build stables. I'm about to ship over a couple of my thoroughbreds from England.
I'm really a clean-cut kid.
Life is cruel. Why should the afterlife be any different? I offer you a choice. Join my crew...and postpone the judgment. One hundred years before the mast. Will ye serve?
Did you forget? I'm a heartless wretch!
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