Where there is creativity there is hope and Haiti is the most hopeful place I've experienced
Fezzik's in trouble, bubble bubble, His brain is just not in the pink, His mind is rubble, rub-a-dub double, Because everyone needs him to think.
Writing is finally about one thing: going into a room alone and doing it. Putting words on paper that have never been there in quite that way before. And although you are physically by yourself, the haunting Demon never leaves you, that Demon being the knowledge of your own terrible limitations, your hopeless inadequacy, the impossibility of ever getting it right. No matter how diamond-bright your ideas are dancing in your brain, on paper they are earthbound.
Nobody knows anything. . . . . . Not one person in the entire motion picture field knows for a certainty what's going to work. Every time out it's a guess and, if you're lucky, an educated one.
Her heart was a secret garden and the walls were very high.
A good writer is not someone who knows how to write- but how to rewrite
Do I love you? My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.
The Great Way has no gate; there are a thousand paths to it. If you pass through the barrier, you walk the universe alone.
What destruction have I been blessed by?
I keep hearing this [expletive] thing that guns don't kill people, but people kill people. If that's the case, why do we give people guns when they go to war? Why not just send the people?
I am so sick of reading about another car bomb, another suicide bomber, another 10, 20, 30, 70, 100 people dead in a day, both Americans and Iraqis.