How easy to be a bird or an animal, living from day to day, unaware you're alive, unaware that one day you will die.
It's okay to talk about it. Death is so normal, I don't know why everyone gets so hung up about it. We all have to deal with it. Most people that you talk to have lost someone, but nobody talks about it.
He loved me and I loved him, but the number in my head was telling me that he was going to die today. And the numbers had never been wrong.
Life's not that simple. Not so easy to move on when the anger you've got is what keeps you going.
And just when I though things were starting to get better, everything had gone wrong again.
People just don't seem to get me. Don't understand that I need my space. Always telling me what to do. They think rules and routines and clean hands and your p's and q's will make everything all right. They haven't got a clue.
We all know we're one day closer to the end when we wake up in the morning. We just kid ourselves that it's not happening.
However cozy things seemed, the facts of life were the same. You couldn't escape death: It would get us all in the end.
I was tired of being me.
I don't understand, Jem. I don't understand why you'd leave me. Why would you that?
You get use to someone start to like them, even and they leave. In the end, everyone leaves.
And then, a strangely comforting thought trickled through me I had nothing, so I could do anything now. Anything I wanted. I had nothing left to lose.
I always tell young actors to have a back-up. You don't want to find yourself at the age of 30 still struggling to make a living out of acting.
I've been as critically rubbished as acclaimed and the worst thing about that is that it usually plays into your own self-criticism.
You're in a movie because you're appealing and because you represent the aspiration, the fantasy, the ideal.