She had only one flaw. She was perfect, otherwise whe was perfect.

Finishing a book is just like you took a child out in the back yard and shot it.

I loved her enough to forget myself, my self pitying despairs, and be content that something she thought happy was going to happen.

If there is no mystery, for the artist, to solve inside of his art, then there's no point in it....for me, every act of the art of solving a mystery.

If you can't be friends with a lover, then forget it. It's not going to work.

I've been working, working, working, and you know, sometimes you look back at your work and you see that it just isn't any good.

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