Leo Tolstoy

Every heart has its own skeletons.

Man cannot possess anything as long as he fears death. But to him who does not fear it, everything belongs. If there was no suffering, man would not know his limits, would not know himself.

There are no conditions to which a person cannot grow accustomed, especially if he sees that everyone around him lives in the same way.

Respect was invented to cover the empty place where love should be.

Instead of going to Paris to attend lectures, go to the public library, and you won’t come out for twenty years, if you really wish to learn.

Rummaging in our souls, we often dig up something that ought to have lain there unnoticed.

Relationships are negotiated and if you deal with ultimatums and authority all the time, then you’re not going to get anywhere.

I would never buy Ivana any decent jewels or pictures. Why give her negotiable assets?

It’s great if the in-laws themselves put up boundaries. But if they won’t; it’s up to their grown kids to do it and enforce them.

I guess I am just not the marrying type. I have given it a few chances, and it just goes haywire after a month or two. I am on wife number five right now, maybe five’s a charm?

Never put more in a relationship than you can afford to lose.

Women talk about stuff on the way to the valet that it takes men 10 years to admit to each other. The depth at which women talk to and about each other is invaluable to me. With your really, really close good friends you do that fast.

You don’t have to love everything a person does to love that person.

It’s fun to have a partner who understands your life and lets you be you.

I have a rule, and that is to never look at somebody’s face while we’re having sex; because, number one, what if I know the guy?

I probably didn’t handle things as diplomatically as I should.

Love is the triumph of imagination over intelligence.

I never talk about my wife: we’re both in public professions but we try to keep our private life private.

Of all the various kinds of sexual intercourse, this has the least to recommend it. As an amusement, it is too fleeting; as an occupation, it is too wearing; as a public exhibition, there is no money in it. It is unsuited to the drawing room, and in the most cultured society it has long been banished from the social board. It has at last, in our day of progress and improvement, been degraded to brotherhood with flatulence. Among the best bred, these two arts are now indulged only in private– though by consent of the whole company, when only males are present, it is still permissible, in good society, to remove the embargo on the fundamental sigh.

I never felt I was too protective. I felt I was functioning as a dam against the river of sh*t that comes pouring down on artists, and it was a job that I took very seriously.

A lot of people believe what other people say.