It is the gossip columnist's business to write about what is none of his business.

Old age is an excellent time for outrage. My goal is to say or do at least one outrageous thing every week.

She ate so many clams that her stomach rose and fell with the tide.

The closer and more confidential our relationship with someone, the less we are entitled to ask about what we are not voluntarily told.

We are neurotically haunted today by the imminence, and by the ignominy, of failure. We know at how frightening a cost one succeeds: to fail is something too awful to think about.

Once you have money, you can quite truthfully affirm that money isn't everything.

There seems to be a terrible misunderstanding on the part of a great many people to the effect that when you cease to believe you may cease to behave.

True individualists tend to be quite unobservant; it is the snob, the would be sophisticate, the frightened conformist, who keeps a fascinated or worried eye on what is in the wind.

One of the misfortunes of our time is that in getting rid of false shame, we have killed off so much real shame as well.

Individualism is rather like innocence: There must be something unconscious about it.

In the history of mankind, fanaticism has caused more harm than vice.

Love is supposed to be based on trust, and trust on love, it's something rare and beautiful when people can confide in each other without fearing what the other person will think.

A young man is afraid of his demon and pulls his hand over the demon's mouth sometimes and speaks for him.

I do not dye my hair blackso as to be young again and sin againbut because people dye their clothes black in mourning, so I have dyed my hair black, mourning for my old age.

The responsibility will always go with the manager - you put out the team.

I would refuse to go to a homophobic heaven. No, I would say sorry, I mean I would much rather go to the other place.

I think anybody who has a soul would themselves and their needs aside to help other people.

I'm not really very comfortable being hit on at all.

Darkness, real darkness, was more than just a lack of light.

In the middle of a wrist's suicide slash-line, below the layered skin and above the pulse, there's an acupuncture point that says, “Get back to who you were meant to be.”

Better is not good enough; the best is yet to come!