I like old men. They can be wonderful bastards because they have nothing to lose. The only people who can be themselves are babies and old bastards.

Being able to write becomes a kind of shield, a way of hiding, a way of too instantly transforming pain into honey.

Movies are, like sharp sunlight, merciless; we do not imagine, we view.

How circumstantial reality is! Facts are like individual letters, with their spikes and loops and thorns, that make up words: eventually they hurt our eyes, and we long to take a bath, to rake the lawn, to look at the sea.

Celebrity is a mask that eats into the face. As soon as one is aware of being somebody, to be watched and listened to with extra interest, input ceases, and the performer goes blind and deaf in his over-animation. One can either see or be seen.

It is not enough for a story to flow. It has to kind of trickle and glint as it crosses over the stones of the bare facts.

Everybody who tells you how to act has whiskey on their breath.