I don't love you anymore. Goodbye.

Where is this love? I can't see it, I can't touch it. I can't feel it. I can hear it. I can hear some words, but I can't do anything with your easy words

When I look back I can't believe I was so stupid as to direct Dealer's Choice.

A couple of flop plays, a death in the family, and it could all collapse.

I like the varying rhythm of being a writer that you have a period of being in complete isolation where it's just you and the book and your screenplay and no-one can read it.

Alice: It's the only way to leave. "I don't love you anymore. Goodbye." Dan: Supposing you do still love them? Alice: You don't leave.

I love everything about you that hurts.