A mouth of no distinction but well practiced, before I entered my teens, in irony. For what is irony but the repository of hurt? And what is hurt but the repository of hope?

A man will reveal his true self, or so it seems, on the tennis court.

Acting is the loneliest profession I know.

Perhaps the inevitable tragedy of our complex civilization is that we must be specialists in our fields - and our fields have become increasingly difficult, so that communication is nearly impossible.

Cherie, keep walking. Shut your eyes. We are headed for the bridge. We are going to cross it.

For politics is in its essence as Adams had said, the 'systematic organization of hatred': either you were organized or you were not.

Memory blurs, that's the point. If memory didn't blur you wouldn't have the fool's courage to do things again, again, again, that tear you apart.