Woody Allen
American film director, writer, musician, actor and comedian.
Harry: Every hooker I ever speak to tells me that it beats the hell out of waitressing. Waitressing's gotta be the worst fucking job in the world.
In this land of unlimited opportunity, a place where, to paraphrase Woody Allen, any man or woman can realize greatness as a patient or as a doctor, we have only one commercial American filmmaker who consistently speaks with his own voice. That is Woody Allen, gag writer, musician, humorist, philosopher, playwright, stand-up comic, film star, film writer and film director.
Burt: Do you care even about the Holocaust or do you think it never happened?
Harry: Not only do I know that we lost six million, but the scary thing is that records are made to be broken.
Eternal nothingness is O.K. if you're dressed for it.
Basically my wife was immature. I'd be at home in the bath and she'd come in and sink my boats.
As a filmmaker, I'm not interested in 9/11 [...] it's too small, history overwhelms it. The history of the world is like: He kills me, I kill him, only with different cosmetics and different castings. So in 2001, some fanatics killed some Americans, and now some Americans are killing some Iraqis. And in my childhood, some Nazis killed Jews. And now, some Jewish people and some Palestinians are killing each other. Political questions, if you go back thousands of years, are ephemeral, not important. History is the same thing over and over again.
The lion and the calf shall lie down together but the calf won't get much sleep.
What a world. It could be so wonderful if it wasn't for certain people.
Oh, he was probably a member of the National Rifle Association. It was a group that helped criminals get guns so they could shoot citizens. It was a public service.
She quarreled with the nanny and accused her of brushing Misha's teeth sideways rather than up and down.
The Devil: You want me to turn the air-conditioning on?
Harry: You have air-conditioning in Hell?
The Devil: Sure, it fucks up the ozone layer!
I have also reviewed my own financial obligations, which have puffed up recently like a hammered thumb.
Sex and death. Two things that come but once in my lifetime, but at least after death you're not nauseous.
How can I believe in God when just last week I got my tongue caught in the roller of an electric typewriter?
What has gotten into you lately? Save a little craziness for menopause!
How could I not have known that there are little things the size of "Planck length" in the universe, which are a millionth of a billionth of a billionth of a centimeter? Imagine if you dropped one in a dark theater how hard it would be to find.
Love is the answer. But while you're waiting for the answer, sex raises some pretty good questions.
I'm not saying I didn't enjoy myself, but I didn't.
I was thrown out of college for cheating on the metaphysics exam; I looked into the soul of the boy sitting next to me.
More than any other time in history, mankind faces a crossroads. One path leads to despair and utter hopelessness. The other, to total extinction. Let us pray we have the wisdom to choose correctly.