Even her pink bunny slippers seem to prick up their ears.Diary of a Penguin-napper (p. 15)

Even her pink bunny slippers seem to prick up their ears.

It almost doesn’t matter what is real or unreal. It really matters what we choose to believe.

e quindi uscimmo a riveder le stelle" ("and thence we came forth to see again the stars")

As History stands, it is a sort of Chinese Play, without end and without lesson.

It's a really weird feeling when you write something and you really know it and then you watch actors come in and do it.

I think women should have insight as to how men think. Just like men should have insight into how women think.

I studied with Stella Adler and I didn't like the representational aspect of most opera singers. Most of the opera singers had not a false, but over theatrical way of presenting.

I guess the only thing to do now is meet his parents. I'm sure they're decent people. I mean they gotta be if they named their son Gaylord Focker.

Poetry should be written the way adultery is committed: on the run, on the sly, during the time not accounted for. And then you come home, as if nothing ever happened.

The fear of not having enough prevents many from seeing that they already are enough.