I'm trying to work in studio movies, but they won't hire me.

Black eyeliner says 'You've been through stuff, you know things'.

I watch soap operas. I bake brownies. Normalcy is coursing through my veins.

I would like a nice, powerful, mind-altering substance. Preferably one that will make my unborn children grow gills.

I like soap opera acting. If it's done really well, there's nothing better. It's old school. It's like what those melodramas in the '30s and '40s were like

But it's fun to be something, have that, and you don't have to be real. It's like, comedians. They go on and they're doing all these jokes. I would be like that if I were more awake

An actor's career relies on a lot of luck. Being in the right place at the right time.

In the '90s, indie movies could get financing, because financers gave money straight to directors... Now it's a different system. Indie movies got co-opted by the studio system.

I haven't seen a bear in person. I've seen deer. I have lots of woodchucks on my property. And bluebirds. Foxes.

My dad recently reminded me that my grandfather's cousin was Lefty Frizzell.

You're talking to someone, to a reader, and you get to express in the way you want to. And you get to play with it. It's kind of like acting, but it's on paper.

The important thing is not what they think of me it is what I think of them.

I started writing when I was 9 years old. I was like this weird kid who would just stay in my room, typing little funny magazines and drawing comic strips.

Any given moment - no matter how casual, how ordinary - is poised, full of gaping life.

I'm a prince for real, I don't look at myself as a rapper, as a gangster, none of that.

What do dogs want? They want each other. Human beings are merely a cynomorphic substitute.

To some men popularity is always suspicious. Enjoying none themselves, they are prone to suspect the validity of those attainments which command it.

It was intended to be a vase, it has turned out a pot.

During the 1990s, world leaders looked at the mounting threat of terrorism, looked up, looked away, and hoped the problem would go away.

I'm fine." It's a lie. I am not fine. My head is a symphony of pain, a sadistic master maestro conducting an opus of excruciating, devastating perfecting.

Be it ever so decadent, there's no place like home.