A little man makes a mistake and they hang him by the thumbs; the big ones become ambassadors.

Memory inevitably romanticizes, pressing reality to recede like pain.

Whether for good or evil, it is sadly inevitable that all political leadership requires the artifices of theatrical illusion. In the politics of a democracy, the shortest distance between two points is often a crooked line.

He wants to live on through something - and in his case, his masterpiece is his son. All of us want that, and it gets more poignant as we get more anonymous in this world.

When any creativity becomes useful, it is sucked into the vortex of commercialism, and when a thing becomes commercial, it becomes the enemy of man.

Where choice begins, Paradise ends, innocence ends, for what is Paradise but the absence of any need to choose this action?

I think the job of the artist is to remind people of what they have chosen to forget.