The Happiest Times In My Life Were

When I See Liz Taylor With Those Harry Winston Boulders Hanging From Her Neck I Get Nauseated. Not Figuratively, But Nauseated! All I Can Think Of Are How Many Dog Shelters Those Diamonds Could Buy.

The One Radio Voice That I Listened To Above Others Belonged To Ella Fitzgerald. There Was A Quality To Her Voice That Fascinated Me, And I'd Sing Along With Her, Trying To Catch The Subtle Ways She Shaded Her Voice, The Casual Yet Clean Way She Sang The Words.

Wrinkles Are Hereditary. Parents Get Them From Their Children.

Some Of The Downbeat Pictures, In My Opinion, Should Never Be Made At All. Most Of Them Are Made For Personal Satisfaction, To Impress Other Actors Who Say "oh, God! What A Shot, What Camera Work!" But The Average Person In The Audience, Who Bought His Ticket To Be Entertained, Doesn't See That At All. He Comes Out Depressed.

In The Press, My Sex Life Was Something Else Again. I Was Lady Bountiful Of The Sheets. Some Of The Best Fiction Of The Sixties Was Written About My Amorous Adventures With An Assortment Of Lovers Who Could Have Only Been Chosen By A Berserk Random Sampler.