You do it how you can do it, so long as it's getting done, you're okay.

Time heals all wounds. And if it doesn't, you name them something other than wounds and agree to let them stay.

But I saw the pain and sadness in everything, and swirled it round my mouth like a fine wine.

I'm in love with someone good and kind and gentle, and he's seen the darkness too, but somehow we've become each other's light.

If killing yourself is not an option anymore, you have to sink into the darkness instead, and make something out of it.

I'm not crazy or dangerous, just a bit eccentric and lonely.

When he kisses me, I cry. I explain it's not because I wish he were someone else, it's because it's such a shock to the system to be desired after feeling so completely abandoned.

No one ever loved you like him. And no one ever took it away so completely. But it's here. Look around.

Of course he freaked me out. Of course it's nothing to do with me. But none of that matters. He loved me and now he doesn't. I was everything to him and now I am nothing.

I think I've lost my faith and I can't stop writingbecause I don't know howmuch longer I can hold on.

The goal was to get sane, to get whole, to be complete enough to support someone else.

Forget the past - the future will give you plenty to worry about.

There is no point asserting and reasserting what the heart cannot believe.

I am the slave of my baptism. Parents, you have caused my misfortune, and you have caused your own.

I definitely don't get recognized so I don't have to deal with that.

Hardly anybody in America pays attention to local elections.

sometimes it's okay to cheat on things - but don't ever cheat on people. because once you start, it's very hard to stop. you find out how easy it is to do.

Marilyn was one step from oblivion when I directed her in The Asphalt Jungle. I remember she impressed me more off the screen than on…there was something touching and appealing about her.

Classic authors should be older than I am, and wiser, and on-top of all their deadlines.

It doesn't take an incredible manner of analysis to reveal that our primary desires are incessantly stimulated to keep us basic consumers.

People accuse artists of being narcissists - of course we are! If we don't like ourselves, who's going to like us?