May Each Of My Grandsons Know, At

To Look Back Is To Relax One's Vigil.

I Am A Woman Meant For A Man, But I Never Found A Man Who Could Compete.

Without Discipline And Detachment, An Actor Is An Emotional Slob, Spilling His Insides Out. This Abandonment Is Having An Unfortunate Vogue. It Is Tasteless, Formless, Absurd. Without Containment There Is No Art. All This Vomiting And Wheezing And Bursting At The Seams Is No More Great Acting Than The Convulsions Of Raving Maniacs.

Success Only Breeds A New Goal

Some Young Hollywood Starlets Remind Me Of My Grandmother's Old Farmhouse -- All Painted Up Nice On The Front Side, A Big Swing On The Backside, And Nothing Whatsoever In The Attic.