I have a desperate longing to have a desperate longing

Inevitably it's going to cause some terrible misogynist backlash, and I assume we'll look forward to eight years of jaw-droppingly sexist statements - the way we listened to eight years of racism around the presidency. It will be an argument before it's a conversation. But at least it's being had.

Oddly enough, I never studied writing. I studied almost everything except writing.

Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping... waiting... and though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir... open its jaws and howl. It speaks to us... guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love... the clarity of hatred... the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead.

It's so offensive that we have a man [Donald Trump] that has been accused by more than 10 women of sexual misconduct, not to mention fraud and bribery and all the other things that he's being investigated for, and he gets a total pass.

Anything can be good. Even Last Action Hero could've been good. There's an idea somewhere in almost any movie : if you can find something that you love, then you can do it. If you can't, it doesn't matter how skilful you are.

All worthy work is open to interpretations the author did not intend. Art isn't your pet -- it's your kid. It grows up and talks back to you.