No one will ever know what 'In Cold Blood' took out of me. It scraped me right down to the marrow of my bones. It nearly killed me. I think, in a way, it did kill me.

Jay Sebring cut my hair a couple of times.

There were hints of sunrise on the rim of the sky, yet it was still dark, and the traces of morning color were like goldfish swimming in ink.

The only obligation any artist can have is to himself. His work means nothing, otherwise. It has no meaning.

Aprils have never meant much to me, autumns seem that season of beginning, spring.

I guess if you're that thin and that small you don't need to take up too much space or breathe that much air. You just keep on going.

It's like a jumble of huts in a jungle somewhere. I don't understand how you can live there. It's really, completely dead. Walk along the street, there's nothing moving. I've lived in small Spanish fishing villages which were literally sunny all day long everyday of the week, but they weren't as boring as Los Angeles.