Quote
"Id rather have two girls at twenty-one each, than one girl at forty-two."
W
W. C. Fields"No water—I never touch water. Fish make love in it."
William Claude Dukenfield, better known as W. C. Fields, was an American actor, comedian, juggler and writer. His career in show business began in vaudeville, where he attained international success as a silent juggler. He began to incorporate comedy into his act and was a featured comedian in the Ziegfeld Follies for several years. He became a star in the Broadway musical comedy Poppy (1923), in
"Id rather have two girls at twenty-one each, than one girl at forty-two."
"Some contemptible scoundrel stole the cork from my lunch ..."
"I was in love with a beautiful blonde once, dear. She drove me to drink. Thats the one thing Im so indebted to her for. (Variant: Twas a woman who drove me to drink. I never had the courtesy to thank her.)"
"Whilst traveling through Afghanistan, we lost our corkscrew. Had to live on food and water for several days."
"It was a woman who drove me to drink—and you know, I never bothered to thank her."
"Never give a sucker an even break."
"The wound is the place where the Light enters you."
"yes is a pleasant country... love is a deeper season than reason"
"true lovers in each happening of their hearts live longer than all which and every who"
"What concerns me fundamentaly is a meteoric burlesk melodrama, born of the immemorial adage love will find a way."
"Who made you glorious as the gates of heaven Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade the sun Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with living flower Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your feet? God! let the torrents, like a shout of nations, Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladsome voice! Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soul-like sounds! And they too have a voice, yon piles of snow, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, God!"
"Unchanged within, to see all changed without, Is a blank lot and hard to bear, no doubt. Yet why at others Wanings shouldst thou fret? Then only mightst thou feel a just regret, Hadst thou withheld thy love or hid thy light In selfish forethought of neglect and slight."