That’s one of the nice things about writing, or any art; if the thing’s real, it just lives. All the attendant hoopla about it, the success over it or the critical rejection—none of that really matters. In the end, the thing will survive or not on its own merits. Not that immortality via art is any big deal. Truffaut died, and we all felt awful about it, and there were the appropriate eulogies, and his wonderful films live on. But it’s not much help to Truffaut.

The chief problem about death ... is the fear that there may be no afterlife - a depressing thought.

If I can play a scene in a master shot, I always prefer it. And the actors always prefer it. It's fun to look at on the screen, the actors get a chance to sink their teeth into something substantial, and it's economically helpful.

Not think of death as an end, but think of it more as a very effective way of cutting down on your expenses.

If you take a frown and turn it upside down, the person you are holding by the ankles will soon pass out.

You can't ride two horses with one behind.

My wife is immature. Whenever I take a bath, she sinks my boats.