Your pot belly, I'd give that a 10 for size.

Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights, drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life.

Songwriters are still the brightest people in any room.

I flashed her a smile, but she didn't even look at me. So for brains and good judgment, I'd give her a three.

Pour me another tequila, I'm going to put on your red satin dress. You put on my clothes.

I bought me a guitar about a year ago, learned how to play in a day or so.

Take this rifle, kid. Gimme that guitar.

Yellow leaves hang on your tree of life. The messengers of death are waiting. You are going to travel far away. Have you any provisions for the journey?

Reading is not a duty, and has consequently no business to be made disagreeable.

The reality of the writer's world is that you set yourself up for future disappointment with every success that you deliver because you end up raising your audience's expectations.

I'm not done yet making people miserable. If they're going to make me miserable, then I'm going to make them miserable.

What a splendid time Woo must have had.

There's more variation among human groups than between human groups.

If we reduce social life to the smallest possible unit we will find that there is no social life in the company of one.

A perfect marriage is one in which "I'm sorry" is said just often enough.

An independant reality in the ordinary physical sense can neither be ascribed to the phenomenon nor to the agencies of observation.

For the future, the motto is, "No days unalert."