Nothing is really lost or can be lost, No birth, identity, form--no object of the world, Nor life, nor force, nor any visible thing... The body, sluggish, aged , cold--the embers left from early fires, ...shall duly flame again

She'd always believed that people come in two varieties: those who look out the windshield and those who stare in the rearview mirror. She'd always been the windshield type: gotta focus on the future, not the past, because that's the only part that's still up for grabs. Mom throws me out? Gotta get some food and find a place to live. Husband dies? Gotta keep working, or I'll end up going crazy. Got some guy stalking me? Gotta figure out a way to stop it.

Everyone always noticed Ashley. She was like a flashing neon sign for anyone with an ounce of testosterone.

I gave you the best of me, he'd told her once, and with every beat of her son's heart, she knew he'd done exactly that.

Yet I have come to believe that while the past is unchangeable, our perceptions of is are malleable.

Our lives can't be measured by our final years, of this I am sure.

You need someone who has a really good way of enabling trust in the cast and crew, or the cast particularly, to allow them the confidence to stretch themselves to get the performance that you're going to need to provide all of the emotional up and downs in the film.