Everything, no matter how beautiful, is only with us for awhile.
In a sense who you are has always been a story that you told to yourself. Now your self is a story that you tell to others.
Sex complicates, but it is the power of love to simplify.
I'm in the back of a limousine with Charlie Chaplin and it’s 1928. Charlie is beautiful; his body language seems to skip, and reel and rhyme, heartbreaking and witty at the same time. It seems to promise a better world.
It is necessary to distinguish between history and fantasy wherever possible. And then use them against each other.
In the silence, nothing was fragmented. There were no separate strands to gather together, to fumble, to complete for attention. In the silence, all of that fell away, and there was only what was here, and what was to be done.
You know, all the evil in the world, all the sadness comes from not having a good answer to that question: What do I do next? You just keep thinking of good things to do, lad. You'll be all right. We'll all be all right. I wanted you to know that.