The applause of all but very good men is no more than the precise measure of their possible hostility.

My contribution to film has always been negligible.

I shrivel up every time someone mentions Star Wars to me.

Styling is designing for obsolescence.

An actor is at his best a kind of unfrocked priest who, for an hour or two, can call on heaven and hell to mesmerize a group of innocents.

Best performance of the year: Aston Villa v. Milan, September 1994

We live in an age of apologies. Apologies, fake or true, are expected from the descendants of empire builders, slave owners and persecutors of heretics, and from men who -in our eyes- just got it all wrong. So, with the age of 85 coming up shortly, I want to make an apology. It appears I must apologize for being male, white, and European.