Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute.

When you are courting a nice girl an hour seems like a second. When you sit on a red-hot cinder a second seems like an hour. That's relativity.

I'm pretty, but I'm not, like, a 'pretty girl.'

Any man who can drive safely while kissing a pretty girl is simply not giving the kiss the attention it deserves.

When a man sits with a pretty girl for an hour, it seems like a minute. But let him sit on a hot stove for a minute-and it's longer than any hour. That's relativity.

I'd much rather play the psycho than the pretty girl in hot pants.