Tell me I'm clever, Tell me I'm kind, Tell me I'm talented, Tell me I'm cute, Tell me I'm sensitive, Graceful and wise, Tell me I'm perfect - But tell me the truth.
Money buys everything, even true love.
Until the day when a wise black man can become our ambassador in Paris, we will forever be a pre-Brazil.
To save the audience we must fill the stage with murderers, adulterers and madmen; in short, we must fire a salvo of monsters at them. They are our monster which we will temporarily free ourselves from only to face another day.
Every shy person is a potential sex offender.
I envy stupidity, stupidity is eternal.
Love is impossible without bite marks.
When I think about the holidays, I think about the Salvation Army guys ringing bells in front of stores. They're always so nice to you and they're always willing to give a heart to heart conversation. They actually bear the winter cold to ask for your petty cash with a smile on their face. Fudge those guys.
Perhaps that is why the novel flourished in England. You had these communities that would stay put and people would see one another all the time and cause one another to change and have the opportunity to observe the changes over time.
It's an interesting arc. You start with a character [Doctor Strange] who's likeable and charming but very arrogant and distant. He's funny but you can see there are massive holes in his life. It's a very painful transition and all that he becomes is tested so quickly and violently.
What worries some people about consumption (and I confess at the outset to be one of these ambivalent creatures, fat but troubled in paradise) is that the affluent, technologically advanced West seems more and more focused not on consuming to live but living to consume. The problem with consumption, and the consumer capitalism that has pushed it to feverish historical extremes, is that it has become so all-consuming.