Writing is finally about one thing: going into a room alone and doing it. Putting words on paper that have never been there in quite that way before. And although you are physically by yourself, the haunting Demon never leaves you, that Demon being the knowledge of your own terrible limitations, your hopeless inadequacy, the impossibility of ever getting it right. No matter how diamond-bright your ideas are dancing in your brain, on paper they are earthbound.

When I was your age, television was called books.

"I could give you my word as a Spaniard," Inigo said. "No good," the man in black replied. "I've known too many Spaniards."

Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do.

He's right on top of us. I wonder if he is using the same wind we are using.

Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line.

Yes, I am a failed playwright. I had three shows on Broadway by the time I was 30. They all flopped, and I fled.