What The Hell-you Might Be Right, You

Sometimes I Wonder If Men And Women Really Suit Each Other. Perhaps They Should Live Next Door And Just Visit Now And Then.

I Don't Think That Work Ever Really Destroyed Anybody. I Think That Lack Of Work Destroys Them A Hell Of A Lot More.

If You Have Fame, You Never Feel That You Have Fame, If You Have The Brains Of A Flea. Because Fame Is Something That's Over Back Of You. It Ain't Ahead.... Not Ahead At All. I Mean, If You've Done It That's Great, But "what Are You Going To Do Now?" Is The Only Thing That Matters.

I Have Many Regrets, And I'm Sure Everyone Does. The Stupid Things You Do, You Regret... If You Have Any Sense, And If You Don't Regret Them, Maybe You're Stupid.

I'm What Is Known As Gradually Disintegrating. I Don't Fear The Next World, Or Anything. I Don't Fear Hell, And I Don't Look Forward To Heaven.