One life is too short for doing everything.
I think there is sort of a general universal perception of me or someone who looks like me, as someone who is kind of menacing, dark or mysterious.
Much has been written about the loyalty of dogs, but what I love about them isn't their devotion to me so much as their devotion to being alive.
Next? Growing up to be Clint Eastwood, I hope.
I am devoting some time to music. I'm finding a balance in my life right now so that when I'm not acting I'm really working on the music side of things. . . producing and writing and recording and also getting to do some live shows. It's a really exciting thing.
People got very wimpy about 'Scarface' very quickly.
People recite lines to me all the time, anywhere I get recognized.
The vicarious responsibility for things we have not done, this taking upon ourselves the consequences for things we are entirely innocent of, is the price we pay for the fact that we live our lives not by ourselves but among our fellow men, and that the faculty of action, which, after all, is the political faculty par excellence, can be actualized only as one of the many and manifold forces of human community.
Who wants a stylus. You have to get em and put em away, and you lose em. Yuck. Nobody wants a stylus.
I believe I am becoming pathetic. I'll go further, I believe that I am in love with a flower-growing, wood-carving quarrymancarpenterpig farmer. In fact, I know I am. Perhaps tomorrow I will become entirely miserable at the thought that he doesn't love me back - may, even, care for Remy- but at this precise moment I am succumbing to euphoria. My head and stomach feel quite odd.
I want to travel. Maybe I'll end up living in Norway, making cakes.