“Alice suspected Paul couldn’t really picture his father, just like she couldn’t picture Paul when he was away. Maybe that was the case with people you wanted more than was good for you.”

“Is ignoring me supposed to endear you to me somehow?” “No. That’s the job of my thighs and my get-lost-in-them-forever dreamy eyes.” He leaned in even closer and blinked his eyes several times. “Mesmerizing, aren’t they?” Irene couldn’t hold it back anymore. It flooded out of her and she couldn’t stop it. Even when everyone turned and stared at her, including Jackie and Paul, she couldn’t stop. And she tried. Because laughing this much really would only exacerbate his ego even more.”

“The statement by Paul McCartney that, although he was a pacifist, he couldn’t be at this time of war. Which is as daft as being a vegetarian between meals.”

“I picture my epitaph: 'Here lies Paul Newman, who died a failure because his eyes turned brown.”

“The picture is not made by the photographer, the picture is more good or less good in function of the relationship that you have with the people you photograph.”

“Phillip is the Paul McCartney of our family: better-looking than the rest of us, always facing a different direction in pictures, and occasionally rumored to be dead.”