Lively, too. Talky as a jaybird. With something smart to say on every subject: better than the radio.

When the prisoner is brought down from Death Row he steps from the elevator directly into a "holding" room that adjoins the witness room. There are two cells in this "holding" room, two, in case it's a double execution. They're ordinary cells, just like this one, and the prisoner spends his last night there before his execu­tion in the morning, reading, listening to the radio, playing cards with the guards.

Failure is the condiment that gives success its flavor.

I don't care what anybody says about me as long as it isn't true.

Of course, at their best, movies are anti-literature and, as a medium, belong not to writers, not to actors, but to directors.

Some cities, like wrapped boxes under Christmas trees, conceal unexpected gifts, secret delights. Some cities will always remain wrapped boxes, containers of riddles never to be solved, nor even to be seen by vacationing visitors, or, for that matter, the most inquisitive, persistent travelers.

Most secrets should never be told, but especially those that are more menacing to the listener than to the teller.