Nobody shoots at Santa Claus.
Ray Bradbury has a vacation house in Palm Springs, California, in the desert at the base of the Santa Rosa mountains. It's a Rat Pack-era affair, with a chrome-and-turquoise kitchen and a small swimming pool in back.
Texas, to be respected, must be polite. Santa Anna, living, can be of incalculable benefit to Texas; Santa Anna, dead, would just be another dead Mexican.
I was raised in Topanga Canyon. It's an eclectic community up in the Santa Monica mountains. A lot of musicians lived there - Joni Mitchell, Neil Young - as well as artists and craftspeople.
I don't trust Santa Barbara as far as I can spit. I am afraid that if I went back there, it's possible that I could be run through their system, their judicial system, and wind up in some county jail where I could be killed and I'm not gonna take that chance.
I got a New York designer to build my dream store here, which is a little bit of Florence in New York. It's like the Duomo on Madison. I got inspired by Santa Maria Novella and all the Renaissance architecture.
What about Santa's cookies? I suppose 'parents' eat those, too?
I still believe in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy and true love. Don't even try to tell me different.
A man of fifty looks as old as Santa Claus to a girl of twenty.
I keep three hoes, But don't'call me Santa
Santa is having a tough time this year. Last year he deducted eight billion for gifts, and the IRS wants an itemized list.
Sit peacefully in a church and think of church history: witchburning perhaps, or child abuse, genocide, the amassing of disgusting wealth, the repression of women, inquisitions, castrating child choir singers, the denial of Santa Claus and the support of fascists in power.