There is no such thing as playing someone else's character. Every actor takes a character and makes it his/her own while enacting it on screen.
I don't mean to sound - I don't want it to come out funny, but I don't like show business. I love - I love acting in films. I love it.
I became kind of a dropout in science after I came back to America. I wanted to photograph.
ERIC: What are you always writin' in that book anyway?...
I see the game now. You can't write with ink, and you can't write with your own heart's blood, but you can write with the heart's blood of some one else. You have to be a cad before you can be an...
I watched plays with the kind of voracity with which small children read books; with the same visceral passion, the same complete trust in the imagination which is so difficult to sustain through the...
The dancing vortex of a sacred metaphor clashes horns and halos to make wounded music set to the tempo of a new era in brilliant labor.
In any case, perhaps the quest for data to support our actions gets overemphasized. After all, our emotions distinguish us. Art and poetry and music are from and to the human heart, as is, for many,...
In effect, painting is the still memory of {the artist's} human motion, and our individual responses to it depend on who we are, on our character, which underlines the simple truth that no person...
Artistic symbols and myths speak out of the primordial, preconscious realm of the mind which is powerful and chaotic. Both symbol and myth are ways of bringing order and form into this chaos.
If you are destined to become a writer, you can't help it. If you can help it, you aren't destined to become a writer. The frustrations and disappointments, not even to mention the unspeakable...
Love doesn't make you a poet
A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.
Everything you invent is true: you can be sure of that. Poetry is a subject as precise as geometry.
An artisan without memories, whose only dream was to die of fatigue in the oblivion and misery of his little gold fishes.
The Red Lion was a four-ale bar with a handful of lowbrowed sons of toil who looked as though they...
What could you do? Major Major asked himself again. What could you do with a man who looked you...
If I turned towards books, it was because they were the only sanctuary I knew, one I needed in order...
We all had to pay, but not for the crimes we were accused of. There were other scores to settle.
Hope for some means its loss for others; when the hopeless regain some hope, those in power--the...
Why are they going to disappear him? I don't know. It doesn't make sense. It isn't even good...
Read me back the last line. 'Read me back the last line,' read back the corporal who could take...
It isn't even good grammar. What the hell does it mean when they disappear somebody?
Keep in mind that when we talk of a great painting we are not really talking about anything great....