I remember writing the post but not what I said specifically, so I'll either repeat myself or say something completely different and baffle everybody.

Disappointment is just the action of your brain readjusting itself to reality after discovering things are not the way you thought they were.

How many Zen masters does it take to screw in a light bulb? The plum tree in the garden!

You can always improve your situation. But you do so by facing it, not by running away.

Compassion is the ability to see what needs doing right now and the willingness to do it right now.

You can't function in society if you don't involve yourself in the fictions society accepts about time. But you do so with the understanding that you're playing a game.

The truth comes when you can see that your self-image is just a convenient reference point and nothing more, and that you as you had imagined yourself do not exist.

Do what you do as well as you possibly can. That's Buddhist morality.

Truly compassionate action arises spontaneously without thought and is carried out in real action with no anticipation of reward and, indeed, no concept of a doer of that action.

Your role is to do and say the things that need to be done and said from your unique perspective.

Reality's all you've got. But here's the real secret, the real miracle: it's enough.

You can't do anything about the length of your life, but you can do something about its width and depth.

What's writ is what's read, yet the meaning is gone, since context is what gives each quote its own home.

Every single substitute teacher growing up could not pronounce my name, so whenever someone pauses, I'm like, 'Oh, that's me.'

Of course, like all film-makers I've been mesmerised by cinema since I was a child.

Someday I hope to write a book where the royalties will pay for the copies I give away.

You're pretty smart for a Fed." "I missed a bunch of questions on the entrance exam on purpose so that I could get into the agency.

It is so little true that martyrs offer any support to the truth of a cause that I am inclined to deny that any martyr has ever had anything to do with the truth at all.

Man screams from the depths of his soul; the whole era becomes a single, piercing shriek. Art also screams, into the deep darkness, screams for help, screams for the spirit. This is Expressionism.

There's always male roles I want to play. I'm so annoyed when I watch movies and go, "That could have been played by a woman."

I have never felt at any point in my life, good or bad, any ill will ever from the man or woman on the street.