No one in this world, so far as I know - and I have searched the records for years, and employed agents to help me - has ever lost money by underestimating the intelligence of the great masses of the plain people.

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

Every normal man must be tempted, at times, to spit on his hands, hoist the black flag, and begin slitting throats.

The cynics are right nine times out of ten.

I'm from a family of bankers and businessmen, and here I am, the artist, the black sheep.

Certainly part of being from a big family is that you have to shout to make yourself heard.

I think children learn through their parents.

I'm part of the tribe who have said goodbye to one parent and are feeling a sense of responsibility for the one who remains - in my case, my mother. How do I make her time smoother, happier? How do I try to ease her, a widow, away from the dark well of grief without dishonoring the necessity of that grief?