I have this dream where Little Chino keeps showing up at my door. I would have to kill him even though I was at home trying to have a nice meal with my family. Every time he (Chino) would come to the door, I'm like, 'you again!' But I was myself (not Dexter) in the dream. I'm rolling my eyes in the dream because it is so absurd. It was like, this is ridiculous because you (Chino) are not even real!

People feel like they know me from the work I have done, but it's not me.

It's interesting to play a role where you don't really have to preoccupy yourself with any need to convince yourself that you're not acting.

I don't think closeted homosexual morticians have the market cornered on self-loathing or sense of shame.

I think I had a shyness about me, I think I discovered acting as a way to break out of that and as a way of belonging, a sense of being special.

I certainly know there are people in positions of power in the business who lack imagination and, perhaps as a result of that, think of me as 'David'. But I wouldn't really want to work with those people, you know?

As time passes, I feel more and more a sense of acting being a fundamental part of who I am.