You can talk film theory till you're blue in the face, but in the end, the thing that may haunt you most about a movie is a pair of eyes.

Who would have thought that [director] Cameron Crowe had a movie as bad as Vanilla Sky in him? It's a punishing picture, a betrayal of everything that Crowe has proved he knows how to do right.

The scariest thing in it may be the way the clock radio has a way of turning itself on, loudly, of its own accord. The song is always the Carpenters' "We've Only Just Begun." Now that's horror.

It's impossible to tell what's going on at any given moment in Tomb of the Dragon Emperor; it's even harder to care about being able to tell.

The bigger question to ask about 300 is why, for a supposedly rousing tale of heroism, it's so curiously unaffecting.

Pan's Labyrinth works on so many levels that it seems to change shape even as you watch it. It is, at times, a joyless picture, and its pall of sadness can begin to weigh you down.

"Batman Begins" leaks existential phoniness from the first frame.

While "9 Songs" is sexually explicit in the basic sense, its directness is what's most fascinating, and ultimately most moving, about it.

This film "Phantom" takes everything that's wrong with Broadway and puts it on the big screen in a gaudy splat.

Monster is a compassionate picture without any obvious agenda. And it's effective precisely because it's not a polemic.

I can't remember ever feeling so glad that a movie was finally over. [Director George] Lucas may have held my imagination hostage for two hours, but reclaiming it afterward wasn't hard at all.

Accessibility to information never been so advanced and easy in entire human history as it is now and we have no excuse for ignorance.

Chicken fizz! O Lord, protect all of us who toil in the vineyards of experimental chemistry!

The truth is that I'm never sure how any of my books will be received, and because I can be thin-skinned, I try not to read too many reviews when a book first comes out.

Children in the 21st (century) have been transformed from net producers of their own toy and play culture, to net consumers of play culture imposed by adults.

Winter must be cold for those with no warm memories.

I am not as concerned about choosing the right words as I am in letting the words flow naturally.

I look around for the friends I used to turn to pull me through. Looking into their eyes, I see them running, too.

I wonder, by my troth, what thou and I Did, till we lov'd?

Not too hard for me to stay motivated when I'm in sport where everyone's trying to knock me out.

Solitude vivifies, isolation kills.