I Don't Mind Growing Old. If I

I Dealt With Men Who Had Tempers, And Who Could Get Violent-lord Knows How I Had To Defend Myself Against Howard Hughes And Frank Sinatra, And From Artie Shaw's Verbal Abuse. But George [c. Scott] Was A Different Category Of Animal When He Got Drunk. He'd Break Into My Hotel Room, Which He Did In Italy, London And At The Beverly Hills Hotel, Attack Me To Where I Was Frightened For My Life, And Scream, 'why Won't You Marry Me?' Well, I Would Never Marry A Man Who Couldn't Control His Liquor. Me, I'm A Happy Drunk. I Laugh, I Dance. I Certainly Don't Break Bottles And Threaten To Kill.

I've Certainly Never Taken The Care Of Myself That I Should Have. On The Contrary. I've Done A Lot Of Late Nights Without Enough Sleep And All That. But I've Had Fun. Whatever Wrinkles Are There, I've Enjoyed Getting Them.

Maybe, In The Final Analysis, They Saw Me As Something I Wasn't And I Tried To Turn Them Into Something They Could Never Be. I Loved Them All But Maybe I Never Understood Any Of Them. I Don't Think They Understood Me.

I Either Write The Book Or Sell The Jewels. And I'm Kinda Sentimental About The Jewels.

So This Was Where Lust Was Satisfied. If I'd Been An Old-time Miner I'd Have Asked For My Gold Nugget Back.