Acting might bring on emotional exhaustion, but writing tired your brains out. Writing led to depression and insomnia and walking around all day with a haggard look.

And do you know a funny thing? I'm almost fifty years old and I've never understood anything in my whole life.

Can you really think artists and writers are the only people entitled to lives of their own?

He couldn't even tell whether he was angry or contrite, whether it was forgiveness he wanted or the power to forgive.

Acting might bring on emotional exhaustion, but writing tired your brains out. Writing led to depression and insomnia and walking around all day with a haggard look.

He knew it was possible for shame to be nursed and doctored like an illness, if you wanted to keep it separate from the rest of your life, but that didn't mean there'd be any way to keep from knowing it was there.

It's a disease. Nobody thinks or feels or cares any more; nobody gets excited or believes in anything except their own comfortable little God damn mediocrity.