Solitude is independence.
. . . but now the worst crime was pretending to be something you were not.
When all is said and done, the weather and love are the two elements about which one can never be sure.
Some things, when they change, never do return to the way they once were. Butterflies for instance, and women who've been in love with the wrong man too often.
I wrote to find beauty and purpose, to know that love is possible and lasting and real. . . . Once I got to my desk, once I started writing, I still believed anything was possible.
There are some things, after all, that Sally Owens knows for certain: Always throw spilled salt over your left shoulder. Keep rosemary by your garden gate. Add pepper to your mashed potatoes. Plant roses and lavender, for luck. Fall in love whenever you can.
Real love, after all, was worth the price you paid, however briefly it might last.
He who knows even how to prepare a smoke properly, knows also how to meditate. And he who cannot cook well cannot be a perfect sannyasin. Unless cooking is performed with a pure mind and concentration, the food is not palatable.
In literature, there are only oxen. The biggest ones are the geniuses-the ones who toil eighteen hours a day without tiring.
I built a system simple enough to sustain itself.
People are losing jobs, people need to be entertained, and I want to make movies that parents and children can look forward to seeing, that can become a kind of family ritual.