Paul Newman Quotes

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight, from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home...

A man with no enemies is a man with no character.

I'm a supporter of gay rights. And not a closet supporter either. From the time I was a kid, I have never been able to understand attacks upon the gay community. There are so many qualities that make up a human being... by the time I get through with all the things that I really admire about people, what they do with their private parts is probably so low on the list that it is irrelevant.

You only grow when you are alone.

I don't like to discuss my marriage, but I will tell you something which may sound corny but which happens to be true. I have steak at home. Why should I go out for hamburger?

We are such spendthrifts with our lives, the trick of living is to slip on and off the planet with the least fuss you can muster. I’m not running for sainthood. I just happen to think that in life we need to be a little like the farmer, who puts back into the soil what he takes out.

The day after Paul Newman was dead, he was twice as dead.

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the dark movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman, and a ride home. I was wishing I looked like Paul Newman - he looks tough and I don't - but I guess my own looks aren't so bad.

Those with a moral deficit put on a good show, and sleep like a baby.

The problem with getting older is you still remember how things used to be.

On adultery: "Why fool around with hamburger when you have steak at home?

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

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home . . .

There are two Newman's laws. The first one is "It is useless to put on your brakes when you're upside down." The second is "Just when things look darkest, they go black.

It's like chasing a beautiful woman for 80 years. Finally, she relents and you say, 'I'm terribly sorry. I'm tired.' [After winning his first Oscar after so many losses]

The embarrassing thing is that my salad dressing is out-grossing my films.

It's been a privilege to be here.

When you see the right thing to do, you'd better do it.

Unlike Paul Newman, who seems to think that salad dressing is the cure-all for America's ills, I'm a man of action.

I wondered for a long time how to start that theme, how to start writing about something that was important to me. And I finally began like this: When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home...

It's always darkest before it turns absolutely pitch black.

On considering adultery - Why go out for hamburger when I can have steak at home?

I never ask my wife about my flaws. Instead I try to get her to ignore them and concentrate on my sense of humor. You don't want any woman to look under the carpet, guys, because there's lots of flaws underneath. Joanne believes my character in a film we did together, 'Mr. and Mrs. Bridge' comes closest to who I really am. I personally don't think there's one character who comes close . . . but I learned a long time ago not to disagree on things that I don't have a solid opinion about.

Acting is a question of absorbing other people's personalities and adding some of your own experience.

There are so many qualities that make up a human being... by the time I get through with all the things that I really admire about people, what they do with their private parts is probably so low on the list that it is irrelevant.

To that extent that you can sustain and maintain that childlike part of your personality is probably the best part of acting. Quoted in "Paul Newman's Road To Glory", interview with Paul Fischer, Film Monthly (2002-07-01)

It's all been a bad joke that just ran out of control. I got into food for fun but the business got a mind of its own. Now - my good Lord - look where it has gotten me. My products are on supermarket shelves, in cinemas, in the theater. And they say show business is odd.

Of course I know Julie Andrews. She's the last of the really great broads.

when u have no enemies ,you are characterless.

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.

*   *   * “‘When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.…’” Cath closed the book and let it fall on Levi’s chest,

I like racing but food and pictures are more thrilling. I can't give them up. In racing you can be certain, to the last thousandth of a second, that someone is the best, but with a film or a recipe, there is no way of knowing how all the ingredients will work out in the end. The best can turn out to be awful and the worst can be fantastic. Cooking is like performing and performing like cooking.

For someone as controlled as I am, to experience the delight, the luxury, of being out of control, not to have an inkling of what’s around the next corner and to keep yourself constantly at risk, is simply pleasurable.

i found the food Alex recommended. Newman's Own Organic Chicken and Rice kibble. . . . i wished Paul Newman made human kibble too.

Marilyn Monroe, Paul Newman, James Dean.

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.

If men could menstruate ... clearly, menstruation would become an enviable, boast-worthy, masculine event: Men would brag about how long and how much.... Sanitary supplies would be federally funded and free. Of course, some men would still pay for the prestige of such commercial brands as Paul Newman Tampons, Muhammed Ali’s Rope-a-Dope Pads, John Wayne Maxi Pads, and Joe Namath Jock Shields —”For Those Light Bachelor Days.”               Gloria Steinem

It's such a cool story that Paul Newman was like, "I like making salad dressing, but I'm good [financially]." It just shows that working hard doesn't have to be about getting rich or more rich or whatever. It's about adding value to the world.

As Amani frantically diced the ingredients for her Pan seared Mahi-Mahi with Mango Salsa, she recalled her first meeting with him during a class he taught on the presentation of food and organization the previous year. Amani had been immediately drawn to the tall, serious Californian, and not just because of his looks. With dark wavy hair, strong features and the deepest blue eyes she had ever seen short of Paul Newman’s, David Spencer was everything Amani admired in a man, and then some. http://omadisonpress.com/romance/all-...

you’ve got some hard bark on you was a line from an old TCM movie my dad and I watched during his drinking days. Can’t remember the name of the film, only that Paul Newman was in it, playing an Indian. You think some of the things in my story are hard to believe? Try imagining Paul Newman as an Indian. That’s a real credibility-strainer.

Trúði hann á þetta allt saman? Ég held að svo hafi verið. Við trúum alltaf auðveldlega á allt sem gerir okkur hreykin, allt sem kemur sér vel fyrir okkur. Mér verður hugsað til setningar sem Paul Newman sagði: „Ef ég væri ekki bláeygur, þá hefði ferill minn ekki verið jafn glæstur.“ Ég velti því fyrir mér hvort Heydrich hafi hugsað það sama.

A man without enemies is a man without character.

Honey, Don't go shooting all the dogs 'cause one of them's got fleas

Money won is twice as sweet as money earned.

So, now I know there’s a story. Spill the beans, girl.” Frankie sighed. “Fin used to bring his Naval Academy friends home in the summer. They seemed like gods to me.” She smiled, a little one, and thought maybe it was too sad to be real. “Rye Walsh was his best friend. The CO in the sunglasses last night? I had a huge crush on him.” “The guy who looks like Paul Newman? Wow. So, grab his hand and show him—” “He’s engaged.” “Shit. Not again.” Barb took a drink. “And you’re a damn good girl.” “When I danced with Jamie, I felt safe. Loved, I guess. It was like being home,

This was not a simple case of taking an otherwise normal, well-balanced, rational human being, putting him in a bad situation, and suddenly he turns bad,” he said. “I faked it.” He explained. The first night was boring. Everyone was just sitting around. “I thought, Someone is spending a lot of money to put this thing on and they’re not getting any results. So I thought I’d get some action going.” He had just seen the Paul Newman prison movie Cool Hand Luke, in which a sadistic southern prison warden played by Strother Martin persecutes the inmates. So Dave decided to channel him.

This Is Not an Elegy At sixteen, I was illegal and brilliant, my fingernails chewed to half-moons. I took off my clothes in a late March field. I had secret car wrecks, secret hysteria. I opened my mouth to swallow stars. In backseats I learned the alchemy of guilt, lust, and distance. I was unformed and total. I swore like a sailor. But slowly the cops stopped coming around. The heat lifted its palms. The radio lost some teeth. Now I see the landscape behind me as through a Claude glass— tinted deeper, framed just so, bits of gilt edging the best parts. I see my unlined face, a thousand film stars behind the eyes. I was every murderess, every whip- thin alcoholic, every heroine with the silver tongue. Always young Paul Newman’s best girl. Always a lightning sky behind each kiss. Some days I watch myself in the third person, speak to her in the second. I say: I will meet you in sleep. I will know you by your stillness and your shaking. By your second-hand gown. By your bruises left by mouths since forgotten. This is not an elegy because I cannot bear for it to be. It is only a tree branch against the window. It is only a cherry tomato slowly reddening in the garden. I will put it in my mouth. It will be sweet, and you will swallow.

In this life, my body has become a withered twig, where once I stood tall. I distantly remember the lush earth and beech forests of New England --- outside my bedroom window as a child --- growing in kingdoms. My parents near me. In this life, I bubble like an old man, when once I could fly over doubts and contradictions. In this life, my memories are the smoke I choke on, burning my eyes. In this life, I remember hungers that will never return. When I was once a lover with the bluest eyes she had ever seen --- deeper than Paul Newman's, darker than Frank Sinatra's. This life! This life is coming to an end without any explanation or apology, and where every sense of my soul or ray of light through a cloud promises to be my end. This life was an abrupt and tragic dream that seized me during the wee hours of a Saturday morning as the sunrise reflected off the mirror above her vanity table, leaving me speechless just as the world faded to white.

The O’Jays sent a cease-and-desist letter to Congressman John Mica (R-FL) and copied Paul Manafort via their attorney, demanding that the campaign stop using their 1972 hit “Love Train” (which we’d changed to “Trump Train”) or 1973’s “For the Love of Money,” which had been The Apprentice theme song for fourteen seasons, at any Trump or Republican rally or event. The O’Jays’s Walter Williams and Eddie Levert said in a press statement, “We don’t appreciate having our music associated with a campaign that is hurtful to so many with whom we have common ground. . . . Our music, and most especially ‘Love Train,’ is about bringing people together, not building walls.” I was devastated—not only were the O’Jays one of my favorite groups, they were friends from Ohio, and I participated every year in their charity events. That one hit close to home.

The gospel always divides. And this will always be uncomfortable—for both the evangelist and the listener. While it helps to find common ground, a point will come where our path and our non-Christian relatives’ paths diverge. This is nothing new. People have always bristled at our exclusive gospel. That’s why they tried to throw Jesus off a cliff (Luke 4:29). It’s why they stoned Stephen (Acts 7:58). It’s why they tried to kill Paul several times (e.g. Acts 14:19, 21:31). And it may explain why tension fills your family gatherings.

Start small. Identify a few things around you that others need help with. Paul Newman started small. He grew up a few blocks from my home in Shaker Heights and sold lemonade on the corner. Now he sells lemonade all over the world, and most of the profits go to help children. The key here is to do something small with a big heart and stick with it.

I’ve been accused of being aloof. I’m not. I’m just wary.

JOURNALIST— (3) TERRIFIED TO DISAPPOINT MISS HABER AND HER READERS, WE WILL TRY TO ACCOMMODATE HER “FASCINATING RUMORS, SO FAR UNCHECKED” BY BUSTING UP OUR MARRIAGE EVEN THOUGH WE STILL LIKE EACH OTHER. JOANNE & PAUL NEWMAN This was a stunner, and it got folks talking. The Newmans’ marriage, then eleven years along, was considered stable: all those kids, the famed Connecticut home, the films they’d worked on together, the collaborative success of Rachel, Rachel. It didn’t seem right. Gossipy movie fan magazines had often tried to goose a few sales out of articles speculating that the Newmans were at odds with each other (“Shout by Shout: Paul Newman’s Bitter Fights with His Wife”; “Strange Rumors About Hollywood’s ‘Happiest Marriage’”) or that forty-three-year-old Newman was feeling randy and seeking consolations outside the home (“Paul Newman’s Just at That Age”; “Is Paul Newman’s Joanne Too Possessive?”). Invariably, they all stopped short of actually announcing real trouble or accusing Newman of adultery. The Newmans were supposed to be examples. But this strange advertisement didn’t so much squelch rumors as give people reason to wonder about them. They didn’t have to wait long for a fuller story. Later that year a gossip magazine

But in the course of churning out new products, we came perilously close to putting ourselves out of business because we hadn’t taken into account a new phenomenon in the food business, a diabolical supermarket invention—slotting. If ever there was a dirty word in the food business, slotting is it. Competition for shelf space had always been intense, and products were selected at the whim of the supermarket buyer. Some traditional emoluments were involved in getting a new product on the shelf, like giving one free bottle for every ten purchased or offering an introductory promotion—we would lower the price and pass the savings on to the consumer, who instead of buying one

You can read about private jets and red carpets elsewhere. This is definitely not that.

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.

What would Paul Newman do?’)

It had started with Brando. He was the influence. The force. The originator. What he had created, together with collaborators like Tennessee Williams and Elia Kazan, was more visceral. It was threatening. Brando had become part of a triumvirate of actors, along with Montgomery Clift and James Dean. Clift had the beauty and the soul, the vulnerability. Dean was like a sonnet, compact and economical, able to do so much with the merest gesture or nuance. And if Dean was a sonnet, then Brando was an epic poem. He had the looks. He had the charisma. He had the talent. There’s that classic sequence from A Streetcar Named Desirewhere Brando completely loses it during the card game, until he’s at the bottom of the stairs, yelling, “Stella! Stella!” It’s an episode that builds gradually, which of course comes from Kazan’s original staging of the play and Brando’s memory of it as he had done it every night. But by the time Brando got this on film, he had become one with the elements. You experienced that sequence like you experienced a tornado or monsoon. It was that captivating. But evolution always makes people nervous. There was anger toward Brando. People said he mumbled. They said his features were too soft, too delicate. They said he liked to show off his chest. If people disparaged his approach it was because they didn’t see the technique that went into it. But he found whatever it was that opened the door to his expression, that allowed him to reveal himself and communicate it to audiences so that they identified with him. Brando made possible the Paul Newmans of the world, the Ben Gazzaras, the Anthony Franciosas, and the Peter Falks, people like John Cassavetes, who was his own special kind of phenomenon. These were the idols of an era just before mine, actors who had already moved beyond the studios and had been out in the world for a decade or more by the time I arrived there.

great sport with

The Incarnation is the most stupendous event which ever can take place on earth; and after it and henceforth, I do not see how we can scruple at any miracle on the mere ground of its being unlikely to happen. — Blessed John Henry Newman

found a registered two-thousand-pound prize Seminole bull with a note that said, “Here’s that calf I owe you.” Faron took the bull out to pasture, where he and his partner Jimmy C. Newman, a star of the Grand Ole Opry, used it for breeding for years. Tootsie’s was the launching pad for all kinds of grand connections. One night I spotted Charlie Dick. He was Patsy Cline’s husband and manager. I had with me a copy of “Night Life” that I’d cut with Paul Buskirk in

Having grown up in such a rich Catholic culture as Poland, John Paul knew that the enrichment of faith usually comes through a convergence of various avenues, channels, and influences. We might understand this idea through a water analogy: A little country brook meandering through a meadow isn’t so impressive. But when a thousand little brooks converge and pour into a mighty river, well, then, we’re dealing with something substantial! Or, to use one of Newman’s own descriptions, an accumulation of influences are “like a bundle of sticks, each of which … you could snap in two, if taken separately from the rest,”112 but as a bundle, they’re virtually unbreakable.

As unbelievable as it sounded to Fred, they thought it was just one big carnival. They didn’t come uptown for the maple stirs, didn’t care about the syrup producers’ contest or participants, didn’t like the queen contest, didn’t watch the bathtub race or the parades, and were negative in all aspects. When they looked at the square from the outside, it was only a cheesy carnival. If they would or could have viewed the festival from the inside, they would have seen a community celebration of the end of snow, the coming of green leaves and plants and shrubs, the flow of maple sap, the change from sap to syrup, the transition from winter to spring. They would have seen their neighbors walking their children uptown for a stir, for a turn on the Dragon Ride, telling their children to slow down; they could watch the high-school bands

When I stepped out into the bright sunlight from the darkness of the movie house, I had only two things on my mind: Paul Newman and a ride home.…’” Cath closed the book and let it fall on Levi’s chest, not sure what happened next. Not sure she was awake, all things considered. The moment it fell, he pulled her into him. Onto him. With both arms. Her chest pressed against his, and the paperback slid between their stomachs. Cath’s eyes were half closed, and so were Levi’s—and his lips only looked small from afar, she realized, because of their doll-like pucker. They were perfectly big, really, now that she had a good look at them. Perfectly something. He nudged his nose against hers, and their mouths fell sleepily together, already soft and open. When Cath’s eyes closed, her eyelids stuck. She wanted to open them. She wanted to get a better look at Levi’s too-dark eyebrows, she wanted to admire his crazy, vampire hairline—she had a feeling this was never going to happen again and that it might even ruin what was left of her life, so she wanted to open her eyes and bear some witness. But she was so tired. And his mouth was so soft. And nobody had ever kissed Cath like this before. Only Abel had kissed her before, and that was like getting pushed squarely on the mouth and pushing back. Levi’s kisses were all taking. Like he was drawing something out of her with soft little jabs of his chin. She brought her fingers up to his hair, and she couldn’t open her eyes. Eventually, she couldn’t stay awake. “I’m sorry, Penelope.” “Don’t waste my time with sorries, Simon. If we stop to apologize and forgive each other every time we step on each other’s toes, we’ll never have time to be friends.

I'd like to be remembered as a guy who tried...tried to be part of his times, tried to help people communicate with one another, tried to find some decency in his own life, tried to extend himself as a human being. Someone who isn't complacent, who doesn't cop out.

I never enjoyed acting, never enjoyed going out there and doing it. I enjoyed all the preliminary work-the detail, the observation, putting things together. Every once in a while I'd do a scene that might come together in some unusual way and I would be astonished. But that was a tiny percentage of the time I actually spent doing it.

I wish I could do lots of things, but I can’t—and that doesn’t make me a bad person.

There are three rules for running a business; fortunately, we don’t know any of them.

We were two provincial yokels thinking that what they had to say was terribly important because it was the first time they'd said it out loud to anyone.

This event fascinated two colleagues of mine, George Newman and Daylian Cain, and they decided to investigate “tainted altruism”—the discounting of altruistic acts that give us personal gain, even if they make the world better. In one of their studies, people read about a man who, to gain the affection of a woman, spent several hours a week volunteering where she worked. Some subjects were told that this was a homeless shelter; and it was emphasized that, though the man was self-interested, he did a good job at helping out. Others were told that it was a coffee shop. Subjects judged him to be a worse person when he worked at the homeless shelter.

For us, for what seemed like an eternity, the world stopped. There was the inevitable confusion and chaos to be dealt with, and the fog of grief.

Yeah. You ever see that Sidney Lumet movie The Verdict?” “I don’t think so. I don’t go to a lot of movies anymore.” “It’s an old one with Paul Newman. I went through a Paul Newman phase. Anyway, he’s a lawyer—a drunk, actually—and he tries to drum up business by going to funerals and passing out business cards.

What shuts down a person? That's what I want to find out. Isn't it that a person wants to be anesthetized because he doesn't want to feel whatever sensation might be available? It isn't that you don't care, but that you're always observing and so detached you can never get inside. The core has never had an opportunity to fly, to discover its own curiosity.

informed by both reason and imagination. As Newman said, “The heart is commonly reached, not through the reason, but through the imagination…Persons influence us, voices melt us, looks subdue us, deeds inflame us.”124

Newman’s body of work nicely encapsulated the history of an in-between generation of American men who helped their fathers and uncles conquer the world in war and commerce but who could only watch—likely with some jealousy—as their younger siblings and their own children acted out on the native rebellious impulse to overturn everything. He fit in precisely with neither the Greatest Generation nor the Baby Boomers but represented instead a vital link in the American century—a band of men who were meant to inherit a system that was no longer reliably in place by the time their fathers willed it to them. Torn by the conflicting impulses to rule and rebel, his was arguably the pivotal generation of the twentieth century, and Newman, almost unconsciously, was its actor laureate

IT’S A staggering list of achievements—the acting, the racing, the earnings, the giving away—and he could sometimes seem uneasy about it all and, especially, about the image that the rest of the world had of him as a result. The great sportswriter Jim Murray, who met him on a racetrack, opined, “He’s probably the only guy in America who doesn’t want to be Paul Newman.

Along with his writing career, Hotch’s accidental business venture with his longtime friend Paul Newman (whose first starring role was in The Battler, Hotchner’s first television play) has turned into one of the country’s surprising success stories.

Dreams without movement are delusions, escapes, kid’s play. You have to put your feet into your dreams if they’re ever going to be reality. The dreamers we know and love today are the ones who worked the hardest.

What these diverse experiences, to which were added that in the International Commission of Theologians founded by Paul VI,45 after the Council, and above all that in the Consilium for the reform of the liturgical books,46 have most firmly impressed upon me is the truth of Newman’s quip on the inability of committees in general to produce anything of value.

You can get straight As in marketing and still flunk ordinary life. —NEWMAN TO LEE IACOCCA AFTER IACOCCA’S PINTO CAUGHT FIRE