Who rules our symbols, rules us.
I'm not one of those people who needs that gratification of doing, like, 10 films a year.
I had all the fame anyone could want, and I ran away from it.
I am a collection of thoughts and memories and likes and dislikes. I am the things that have happened to me and the sum of everything I've ever done. I am the clothes I wear on my back. I am every place and every person and every object I have ever come across. I am a bag of bones stuck to a very large rock spinning a thousand miles an hour.
I hope I'm remembered as the king of the world, the noble man who united all the nations of the earth. But that probably won't happen.
I don't even get an allowance.
I can go to any restaurant without a reservation, but while I'm there, everyone's gonna be staring.
If you look at the offense like a fancy car, the offensive line is the engine. Even though we might have nice spinners and nice rims and tinted windows and some neat paint job, it doesn't mean crap without the engine. If the engine's not working, the car might look like a pretty nice car, but it's a piece of crap.
What's that sticky stuff called? Basta: Duct tape. Yes, duct tape. I love duct tape.
Results rarely specify their causes unambiguously. If we have no direct evidence of fossils or human chronicles, if we are forced to infer a process only from its modern results, then we are usually stymied or reduced to speculation about probabilities. For many roads lead to almost any Rome.
We dissect failure a lot more than we dissect success.