I kept on digging the hole deeper and deeper looking for the treasure chest until I finally lifted my head, looked up and realized that I had dug my own grave.

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."

I suppose theres an anger in all of us. Some hidden rage that you keep at bay.

I have always worked from that place, that if you are going to inhabit someone and get under their eyes, you need to have empathy.

I would love an old classic car, or something like that. I'd get something much more subtle than any of those cars. The Lamborghinis were unbelievable to drive and to sit in and to film in. I loved the sensation because I love driving, so I appreciate them for what they are. But, I couldn't go into a showroom and buy something of that expense.

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.

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