Dear Diary: My teen angst bullshit now has a body count.

When you finally accept that it's OK not to have answers and it's OK not to be perfect, you realize that feeling confused is a normal part of what it is to be a human being.

You go through spells where you feel that maybe you're too sensitive for this world. I certainly felt that.

Crazy isn't being broken, or swallowing a dark secret. It's you or me, amplified.

I was very depressed after breaking off my engagement with Johnny ten years ago. I was embarrassingly dramatic at the time, but you have to remember I was only 19 years old.

There was a time when I was 19 when I really, really, really thought I was going crazy. I was exhausted and going through a terrible depression.

I've learned that it's OK to be flawed, that life can be messy, that some days you glide and some days you fall, but most important, that there are no secret answers out there.

You have good days and bad days, and depression's something that, you know, is always with you.

You can't pay enough money to... cure that feeling of being broken and confused.

I am not a person who can really sit around and think about regrets because with every bad experience that you have, there is weirdly something good that comes from it.

I was inspired by lots of people, certainly in acting and in writing and stuff, but I never wanted to be somebody else.

It is hard to die unmourned.

Stand up to your obstacles and do something about them. You will find that they haven't half the strength you think they have.

Hunger is the best pickle.

Some day I'll make a film that critics will like. When I have money to waste.

The wrong way always seems the more reasonable.

You become who you pretend to be.

My basic political posture is "what a shame the human race did this to earth." What we have done environmentally, politically, culturally.

I vary my days between skiing and snowboarding - I can go fast down pisted runs but still struggle in the bumps on a snowboard.

Masterly retreat is in itself a victory.

If I cry, it means I'm too weak to compete in this sport. That's bull.