I was a born troublemaker and might as well earn a living at it.

Patton was living in the Dark Ages. Soldiers were peasants to him. I didn't like that attitude.

Death doesn't affect the living because it has not happened yet. Death doesn't concern the dead because they have ceased to exist.

I can't believe that we would lie in our graves wondering if we had spent our living days well. I can't believe that we would lie in our graves dreaming of things that we might have been.

That's the great paradox of living on this earth, that in the midst of great pain you can have great joy as well. If we didn't have those things we'd just be numb.

As I came to New York, it was for me a new beginning. To discover what people are living here. What do they need, what do they expect, what would they like to be the image and the performance of the New York Philharmonic?

Unless something real cool comes along, I will probably be doing features, so long as I can make a living doing that. Otherwise, I will do another show.

When things don't work well in the bedroom, they don't work well in the living room either.

I have departed from this planet and I have left behind my poor earthly ones with their occupations which are as many as they are useless; at last I am living in the scintillating splendor of the stars, each of which used to seem to me as large as millions of suns.

It never ceases to amaze me that I get to do this for a living.

Capital is money, capital is commodities. By virtue of it being value, it has acquired the occult ability to add value to itself. It brings forth living offspring, or, at the least, lays golden eggs.

Capital is dead labor, which, vampire-like, lives only by sucking living labor, and lives the more, the more labor it sucks.

In bourgeois society capital is independent and has individuality, while the living person is dependent and has no individuality.

History does nothing; it does not possess immense riches, it does not fight battles. It is men, real, living, who do all this.

In the house in Beverly Hills where our four children grew up, living conditions were a few thousand times improved over the old tenement on New York's East 93rd Street we Marx Brothers called home.