There's this exhausting energy from you getting your lines out and your words right, especially if it's a complicated scene. And as soon as the camera is off you and goes on the other person, you're talking garbled garbage and you feel so sorry for them because you've lost the will to live, after 18 hours of saying those lines. That's terribly unfair. So, I do love the quick-paced nature of it.

It's a very, very exciting time, but you can't help thinking or not quite knowing how it's seen from the outside. You're constantly in a state of terror or regret, not quite knowing how things are going to pan out, or whether you've made the right decisions. But, maybe that's just what it's like. Maybe that's just the life of it.

I grew up loving cars. It was completely and utterly, without a doubt, my childhood dream. Whether your childhood dream progresses or changes, you turn into a man and you probably shouldn't still have that same dream.

There are probably only a certain number of people who can understand or tolerate how long a job will take and what demands it puts on you. And why should they? It breeds a strange kind of selfishness immersing yourself in a character for so long.

Sometimes the roles you're being offered, leads in films aren't good enough. Actually it's you're better going and doing a radio play or a decent TV.

I'm sure everyone feels this way, but it's hard to have a proper opinion of yourself or how things are or how you expected them to be or how far removed they are from how you expect them to be. On the one hand, you're extraordinarily grateful and terribly excited, but on the other, I stop and go, "I wonder what the future does hold."

Grief jumps out at you when you're least expecting it.