I have consistently preached that nonviolence demands that the means we use must be as pure as the ends we seek.
I call to mind flatness and dampness; and then all is madness - the madness of a memory which busies itself among forbidden things.
The boundaries which divide Life from Death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends, and where the other begins?
I am walking like a bewitched corpse, with the certainty of being eaten by the infinite, of being annulled by the only existing Absurd.
Beauty of whatever kind, in its supreme development, invariably excites the sensitive soul to tears.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.
There are moments when, even to the sober eye of Reason, the world of our sad humanity must assume the aspect of Hell.
And I kind of feel that I have a responsibility to the people that invest their time and money with me to show up on the set every day and do the best of which I am capable.
In joy, in peace, in that soothing inner state, you will find happiness.
Watching my daughter sort of live in this world where a photograph is not something to keep a memory. It's something to just speak with. It's language.
I’m not a bloody cockroach. What’s all this about? What are you trying to find out?