When Elvis made his mass-media debut on 'The Ed Sullivan Show' - his notorious gyrations filmed only from the waist up - I fell off the family chaise longue with delight.

Broadway shows in New York draw two times the attendance of all New York sports teams put together.

Society drives people crazy with lust and calls it advertising.

His life was one long extravaganza, like living inside a Faberge egg.

Criticism is a life without risk.

Like the tail fins on fifties American cars or the parabolic shapes of Populuxe furniture, 'West Side Story' incarnates the dream of momentum in the golden age of the twentieth century.

Death of a Salesman' is a brilliant taxonomy of the spiritual atrophy of mid-twentieth-century white America.

Accustomed to the veneer of noise, to the shibboleths of promotion, public relations, and market research, society is suspicious of those who value silence.

Although the 'New York Times' annually declares that Broadway is on its deathbed, news of its demise is greatly exaggerated. There's a lot of life yet in the old tart.

Dame Edna is that rarest sighting in our time of the absolute comic, an inspired personification of caprice whose comedy answered the primal call to take the audience for a tumble.

Nobody has ever gone broke selling escape to the American public.

Modern art is what happens when painters stop looking at girls and persuade themselves that they have a better idea.

The practice of deception is foolishness because the truth always eventually surfaces.

What is age, anyway? I feel young because I'm beginning a new chapter in my life, which is so exciting!

In such doubtful matters, where you have to work as a pioneer, you must be able to put some trust in your intuition and follow your feeling even at the risk of going wrong.

Where the electron behaves and misbehaves as it will, where the forces tie themselves up into knots of atoms and come united.

Someday I'll tell you all of it," I say. "I'd like that," he says. "No," I say. "I promise you won't.

Everyone is entitled to my opinion

The author discusses valueless measures in pointless spaces.

For a pure sense of being tumultuously alive, you can't beat the nasty side of existence.

I gave up coffee. It's almost worse than giving up a lover.