I believe in joy, but I believe in the flip-side, agony.

It is a remarkably beautiful piece of home furnishing, the Oscar. I used to keep it up in front of a mirror so that it looked like two.

There are zillions of people who say that alcoholism is a disease, but not many of them believe it.

When I am rehearsing for a play, I try to read nothing that might distract my concentration from the work in progress.

I never wanted a Guardian Angel. I didn't ask for one. One was assigned to me.

If I have to climb to heaven on a ladder, I shall decline the invitation.

I'm glad I am a woman who once danced naked in the Mediterranean Sea at midnight.

I loved playing the part of the feisty Annie Sullivan in The Miracle Worker.

I don't think the Hollywood community is interested in what I can do. That's all right. I've never looked for a job in my life, and I'm not going to start now. I have plenty to keep me busy.

I think The Exorcist was the hardest work I've ever done.

I can choose to accelerate my disease to an alcoholic death or incurable insanity, or I can choose to live within my thoroughly human condition.

I was taught to be anti-Jewish.

A rich man can afford to be generous to many.

I have always had a lot more trouble with my truths than with my deceits.

My name is real, which probably explains why I never became a superstar... how would that look in lights?

I am responsible for no one but myself.

I believe in joy, but I believe in the flip-side, agony.

My admiration for the phenomenon of Alcoholics Anonymous is boundless.

Only a certain breed of actor should ever even try to work for Orson Welles. I'm glad I'm one of that breed.

With two leftover husbands to account for, my wicked soul has just about shriveled and died.

Like many alcoholics, I was a staggering woman in a chic apartment, sick and utterly disgusting.

I'd never been in play long enough for the flowers to die in the dressing room.

I cannot sustain hate for longer than a couple of years.

At awards time, The Exorcist was nominated in 11 categories, everybody but the janitor was up for an Oscar. There was no category for what I did.

I can only know what love is insofar as I can feel it.

Aside from my son, no person has ever shown for me the gentle concern I knew from Governor Adlai Stevenson.

My only true harmony lies deep within my soul, wherever that is. I know that somehow I am in tune with the universe.

Alcohol is a very patient drug. It will wait for the alcoholic to pick it up one more time.

My second marriage had a lot to do with alcohol.

Joan Crawford is a movie queen. I had never met one before. I know now what I don't want to be.

I'd stand in line for Confession with old people and little kids, and as the line moved up, I knew when I got into the box that I would lie! Again!

I am rich from the bequests other gifted people have seen fit to leave to me.

One of the cruelest judgments sustained against me is that I have spoken out as a recovered alcoholic to stimulate my acting career.

Neiman-Marcus is one thing, and the Dallas Cowboys are another.

I don't think I should have been married... to anybody.

The great people I've met always have time for the niceties.

I've always had bronchitis. I've been administered the Sacrament of Death three times for it.

Most people call me Mercy. I like it.

Young Jimmy Dean fell off the world as suddenly as he had come.

I have reached a state in life where I can buy a whole house full of chairs and can bump into them until they are black and blue.

I lose all control after two drinks of anything.

So many people have really wanted to die. They seem ashamed to say so. I think it would help if they would say so.

I find it next to impossible to remain politely silent when people prate to me about the glory of being given another chance to live happily ever after!

I have no use for people who hunt for what they call sport.

I never wanted a Guardian Angel. I didnt ask for one. One was assigned to me.

With an eye made quiet by the power of harmony, and the deep power of joy, we see into the life of things.

Sure, I get the blues. But what I try to do, is apply joy to the blues, you know? I don't know if it's a technique, or just being bent that way, being raised by the folks I was raised by.

Great joy, especially after a sudden change of circumstances, is apt to be silent, and dwells rather in the heart than on the tongue.

Color is my day-long obsession, joy and torment.