The Extraordinary Life of an Ordinary Man: A Memoir

by Paul Newman

I always had a sense that things just happened, that you didn’t have much control over them.

So strange to feel such a lack of control

In life, in relationships, the person who is inconstant does not see that as a flaw. He sees himself as someone who has the ability to be fluid, to see both sides of every question.

There was a glue that held us together then, and through the rest of our life together. And that glue was this: anything seemed possible. The good, the bad, and the wonderful. With all other people, some things were possible, but not everything. For us, the promise of everything was there from the beginning.

Was it all because of what she said about Joanne? No, not really, but it was such a relief to use that as an excuse to escape from her. She represented all my leaden luggage, the parts of myself that I didn’t like. That sense of subservience, uncertainty, not knowing where the next attack was coming from or what the reason for it might be.

As far as I’m concerned, punctuality is the courtesy of kings.

One of the prerequisites for anybody who is going to be friendly with me is that they always have to be dependable.

Have I been screwed a lot? Yes. And while I always say the price of not being screwed is eternal vigilance, eternal vigilance is a very time-consuming and detailed business—going through receipts, checking out every little thing. It can actually be less painful to be screwed than to look after things—at least sometimes.

As far as I’m concerned, a philanthropist is someone who gives up an entirely comfortable way of life, goes out into the populace, gets his hands dirty, and dedicates himself to whatever keeps them dirty. The grace of that person is formidable. What’s hard to give is time. To offer hands-on relationships to people who are less privileged.

Knowing providence would take care of an idea that good, there was no way it wouldn’t get completed.