I Like My Whisky Old And My

I Enter A Whorehouse With The Same Interest As I Do The British Museum Or The Metropolitan - In The Same Spirit Of Curiosity. Here Are The Works Of Man, Here Is An Art Of Man, Here Is The Eternal Pursuit Of Gold And Pleasure. I Couldn't Be More Sincere. This Doesn't Mean That If I Go To La Scala In Milan To Hear Carmen I Want To Get Up On The Stage And Participate. I Do Not. Neither Do I Always Participate In A Fine Representative National Whorehouse - But I Must See It As A Spectacle, An Offering, A Symptom Of A Nation.

My Dream Of Happiness: A Quiet Spot By The Jamaican Seashore . . . Hearing The Wind Sob With The Beauty And The Tragedy Of Everything. Sitting Under An Almond Tree, With The Leaf Spread Over Me Like An Umbrella.

It Is Habit For Me To Discount Myself Before Somebody Else Does It For Me. Better To Get In The First Lick

My Problem Lies In Reconciling My Gross Habits With My Net Income.

I Had Now Made About 45 Pictures, But What Had I Become? I Knew All Too Well: A Phallic Symbol. All Over The World I Was, As A Name And Personality, Equated With Sex.