People just... disappear," he says. "The Earth just opens up and swallows people," I say, some what sadly, checking my Rolex. "Eerie." Kimball yawns, stretching. "Really eerie." "Ominous." I nod my agreement. "It's just"- he sights, exasperated- "futile.

If you start looking at movies on a moral level - "I don't like that, that hurts, that's mean, that's bad" - then I don't even want to talk to you. Or like, someone that says "I don't like science-fiction movies," or "I don't want to sit through a Western," or "I don't like violence in movies," then I completely tune out.

Do you wear a diaphragm everywhere you go?' I want to scream, but stop myself because the idea really excites me.

I had dreamed of something so different from what reality was now offering up, but that dream had been a blind man's vision. That dream was a miracle. The morning was fading. And I remembered yet again that I was a tourist here.

I've never written an autobiographical novel in my life. I've never touched upon my life. I've never written a single scene that I can say took place.

What keeps me interested--and it always does--is how can she be a bad actress on film but a good one in reality?

The better you look, the more you see.