We were so poor; the ultimate luxury in our house at the time was ashtrays without advertisements.

After I told my wife that black underwear turned me on, she didn't wash my Y-fronts for a month.

I dreamt I was forced to eat 25lb of marshmallows. When I woke up, my pillow was missing.

So there I was lying in the gutter. A man stopped and asked '"What's the matter? Did you fall over?" So I said "No. I've a bar of toffee in my back pocket and I was just trying to break it."

The boat was so old; it must have been launched when Long John Silver had two legs and an egg on his shoulder.

She's a classy girl though, at least all her tattoos are spelt right.

It was a pretty posh place. They were so used to fur coats that two bears strolled in and ordered lunch and nobody even noticed.

I met this cowboy with a brown paper hat, paper waistcoat and paper trousers. He was wanted for rustling.

My mother was so house proud that when my father got up to sleepwalk she had the bed made by the time he got back.

My parents never understood me; they were Japanese.

My father was a simple man; my mother was a simple woman; you see the result standing in front of you, a simpleton.

After my first few tastes I was pretty much hooked. I'd have dry spells, months without any or only piddling amounts of grace, but I never forgot about it or stopped wanting it.

I do respect people's faith, but I don't respect their manipulation of that faith in order to create fear and control.

I also started writing songs because I had this burning activity in my heart and had to express myself.

Today is the day for the complaining to end and for statesmanship to begin. Today I am taking action to cut state spending and balance the budget this year.

Everybody agrees that a future in which you are dead is a very bad thing, and that it isn't made any better by your not being around to notice how bad it is.

I've got my finger in a lot of pies.

On with the dance! let joy be unconfin'd No sleep till morn, when Youth and Pleasure meet To chase the Glowing Hours with Flying feet

Laugh as much as you can.

It was nice to be alone, not to have to smile and look pleased; a relief to stare dejectedly out the window at the sheeting rain and let just a few tears escape.

The art market does represent a sort of hyper-capitalism: it produces added value without any actual work being done.