Hollywood, we decided, was a nice place to die, but we wouldn’t want to live there.

Personally, I like those mystery shows. Ever since I was a kid I’ve been crazy about blood and detectives and murder. Maybe I was born with a silver knife in my back.

It was plain to see the Hollywood undertakers take care of everything. If you die you don’t have to lift a finger.

It’s almost impossible to dislike me, because I do nothing.

I’m not saying these flying discs don’t really exist, but nobody living in Kansas City has seen them and that’s a dry state.

The California cemeteries make dying sound so attractive it’s a real effort to keep breathing.

The only non-believer I encountered was Oscar Levant who wouldn’t visit Disneyland because he said he had his own hallucinations.

Poor people have more fun than rich people, they say; and I notice it’s the rich people who keep saying it.

We were ensconced as guests of the exclusive Beverly Hilton Hotel, an edifice so swank that the fire ax in the hall outside our suite said: “In case of fire-break crystal.”

In an interview Errol Flynn said that his hobby was acting but he doesn’t have time for it.