“When I used my real name, all of a sudden there was a lot of commentary. 'Oh, you're a woman' or 'You can't really be a woman' or 'You don't write like a woman.' Or all of a sudden my arguments were not taken as seriously or were judged as hysterical or emotional…. So I got much more interested in why this was happening.”

“"I see you are looking at my feet," he said to her when car was in motion.
"I beg your pardon?" said the woman.
"I said I see you're looking at my feet".
"I beg your pardon. I happened to be looking at the floor," said the woman, and faced the doors of the car.
"If you want to look at my feet, say so," said the young man. "But don't be a God-damned sneak about it."
"Let me out here, please," the woman said quickly to the girl operating the car.
The car doors opened and the woman got out without looking back.
"I have two normal feet and I can't see the slightest God-damned reason why anybody should stare at them," said the young man.”

“People ask, "Why do you dress like a woman?" I don't dress like a woman. I dress like a drag queen.”

“A woman who would steal your love when your love was really all you had to give was not much of a woman.”

“Groucho: You know I think you're the most beautiful woman in the world?
Woman: Really?
Groucho: No, but I don't mind lying if it gets me somewhere.”

“I think of you more often than of anyone else in this part of the world. I'd have liked to have you for a sweetheart, or a wife, or my mother or my sister — anything that a woman can be to a man. The idea of you is a part of my mind; you influence my likes and dislikes, all my tastes, hundreds of times when I don't realize it. You really are a part of me.”

“I just thought to my self, all of a sudden, that we had something in common. A natural chemistry, if you will. And I had a feeling that something big was going to happen. To both of us. That we were, in fact, meant to be together.”

“I wrote it [Fanny Hill: or, the Memoirs of a Woman of Pleasure] to prove that one could write so freely about a woman of the town without resorting to the the coarseness the School of Venus [L'Ecole des Filles], which had quite plain words. My printer and publisher certainly were deceived by my avoiding those rank words in the work, which are all that they judge obscenity by.”

“How long could you love a woman who didn't love you, Cecil?
A woman who didn't love me? Oh, all my life!”

“I had an accident."

"That seemes to happen a lot."

"It wasn't my fault."

"It never is."

"I just have bad luck."

"Or you're just trouble."

"You got a problem with that?"

"No problem at all."

"Oh my God! Are you going to help or not?”