Recently I stood in the desert, far out side of L. A., and watched the sun set on a circus tent from 1930. Every where stood animals: elephants, tigers that should be loaded into a steam train. 300 extras in costumes raced around, the modern world had disappeared totally. Although that was totally fake, it still happened directly before my eyes! That was my perfect day. I would be gladly experience that every day. It happens continually to me: It calls itself work. That is wonderful and more than enough.

My little cousin tells me I look like Magneto so I guess that's who I should probably play.

So I know where my feet are.

I’m, like, a compulsive eater. I’m going to be so fat when I’m older, it’s ridiculous.

Frankly, I have no sex appeal. Just strolling in Los Angeles, London, or Paris, you will find a bunch of young guys like me. I am not James Dean.

New York seems very very foreign to me, like more foreign than almost anywhere in America, and almost anywhere in the world, I find it like one of the most overwhelming places.

I walked out the wrong car door and started walking into the crowd, An interviewer said, 'Give your best horror scream,' and Stan did this great scream, and I was too much of a wimp to do one. It was pathetic!