Some people want to achieve immortality through their works or their descendants. I prefer to achieve immortality by not dying.

How does gravity work? And if it were to cease suddenly, would certain restaurants still require a jacket?

Astronomers say the universe is finite, which is a comforting thought for those people who can't remember where they leave things.

I feel about New York as a child whose father is a bank robber. Not perfect, but I still love him.

I've never been satisfied or even pleased with a film that I've done. I make them, I'm finished, I've never looked at one after. I don't like them because there's a big gap between what you conceive in your mind when you're writing and you don't have to meet the test of reality. You're home, you write and it's funny and beautiful and romantic and dramatic, and then you have to show up on a cold morning, and you don't have enough of this and this goes wrong and you make the wrong choice on something and you screwed up and you can't go back.

If I just got up in the morning and had no place to go and was retired or something, I would be sitting there and be thinking, "Gee, what is the purpose of life? Why are we all finite? Why do we get old and die? Is there nothing out there? Why is it so tragic? Why do our loved ones perish? Why do we generate?" Who wants to think about that stuff?

I read in self-defense.