That's what I like about watching a movie: you enter an imagined world that's more interesting, more engaging than your own. Or less painful than your own.

Sorrow's child grieves not what has passed, but all the past still yet to come.

L.A. is full of screenwriters. I don't know why. On many levels, it's such a thankless occupation.

No wonder sorrow doesn’t smile much. No wonder sadness is so sad.

Being a parent can make you a horrible person at times, because you're pushed to the limit constantly.

I don't know, maybe Australian humour isn't supposed to be funny. It's as dry as the Sahara, and I think people miss that.

I've had to try and find a way over the years of writing narratively that doesn't really require you to sit down and work out what the story's about. You're brought into a sort of sequence of images that have that emotional resonance, but it's kind of irrelevant what the actual story is. It's taken me maybe 13 albums or something to work that out.