Unrequited love's a bore.

Bewitched, bothered and bewildered am I.

The lovely loving and the hateful hates.

Hate California--it's cold and it's damp.

Falling in love with love Is falling for make-believe.

How we love sequestering, where no pests are pestering.

Wide awake I can make my most fantastic dreams come true.

Painters of paintings, writers of books, never could tell the half.

I took one look at you That's all I meant to do And my heart stood still.

Blue moon you saw me standing alone Without a dream in my heart Without a love of my own.

When love congeals It soon reveals The faint aroma of performing seals, The double-crossing of a pair of heels. I wish I were in love again!

I get too hungry for dinner at eight. I like the theater, but never come late. I never bother with people I hate. That's why the lady is a tramp.

Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean the bastards aren't out to get you. ... Painters of paintings, writers of books, never could tell the half. In each scenario, you can depend on the end where the lovers agree. Where's my Lothario? Where does he roam, with his dome Vaselined as can be?

I'm a great believer in conversational rhythm. I think in terms of rhythmic dialogue. It's so easy, you can talk naturally. It's like peas rolling off a knife. Take the great screen actors and actresses, Bette Davis, Eddie Robinson, Jimmy Cagney, Spencer Tracy. They all talk in rhythm. And rhythm and movement are the life of the screen.

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