Steve Martin Quotes

Chaos in the midst of chaos isn't funny, but chaos in the midst of order is.

Mirabelle attracts men of a different kind. They are shyer and more reticent. They look at her a long time before approaching, and when they do find something about her that they want, it is something simple within her.

VERSATI (To Theo.) I can’t believe that you believe what you believe. THEO I can’t change my mind. I’d have nothing to think.

Be so good they can't ignore you

The self-prepared dinner is a great time killer for lonely people and as much time should be spent on it as possible.

I was seeking comic originality, and fame fell on me as a by-product. The course was more plodding than heroic: I did not strive valiantly against doubters but took incremental steps studded with a few intuitive leaps.

Unlike Ray Porter, his love is fearless and without reservation.

There is nothing too mysterious about Ray Porter, at least not in the usual sense of the word. He is single, he is kind, he tries to do the right thing, and he does not understand himself, or women, or his relationships with women.

It's so hard to believe in anything anymore. I mean, it's like, religion, you really can't take it seriously, because it seems so mythological, it seems so arbitrary...but, on the other hand, science is just pure empiricism, and by virtue of its method, it excludes metaphysics. I guess I wouldn't believe in anything anymore if it weren't for my lucky astrology mood watch.

A day without sunshine is like, you know, night.

I thought yesterday was the first day of the rest of my life but it turns out today is.

You know what your problem is, it's that you haven't seen enough movies - all of life's riddles are answered in the movies.

Next phase of weight loss program: Brazilian Butt Workout. I’ve looked at a hundred photos. So far, not working.

How many people have never raised their hand before?

People in coats and ties were milling around the Talley gallery, and on the wall were the minimally rendered still lifes by Giorgio Morandi, most of them no bigger than a tea tray. Their thin browns, ashy grays, and muted blues made people speak softly to one another, as if a shouted word might curdle one of the paintings and ruin it. Bottles, carafes, and ceramic whatnots sat in his paintings like small animals huddling for warmth, and these shy pictures could easily hang next to a Picasso or Matisse without feeling inferior.