The thing with videogame characters is that they tend to be really undercooked, and people don't take the time to really flesh them out. They don't treat them with the respect that a writer writing characters in any other medium would treat their cha...
I would love to do more acting; I really would love to do it, particularly character acting. I'm a character type of actor; I love situations where I've got a bit of room to improvise on the character.
The moot question is not that how many persons are of good or not so good character, but who applauds the character truly as the real beauty factor in own and others’ lives.
Lowell Bergman: This news division has been *villified* by the New York Times! In print, on television, for *caving* to corporate interests! Don Hewitt: New York Times ran a blow by blow of what we talked about behind closed doors! You fucked us! Low...
What makes us love a character is a character that tries.
I tend to like strong female characters. It just interests me dramatically. A strong male character isn't interesting because it has been done and it's so cliched. A weak male character is interesting: somebody else hasn't done it a hundred times. A ...
The Jinmoti of Bozlen Two kill the hereditary ritual assassins of the new Yearking's immediate family by drowning them in the tears of the Continental Empathaur in its Sadness Season.
I understand, gentlemen,” John Kennedy said. “If you find that life it’s not easy, let me tell you, death is worse.
Do you know what they're called? They're the Shadows That Live, Zuze. They're assassins." "Like me," said Zuzanna cheerfully.
That, I think, is the shock of any relationship ending. It is realizing that what is still an ongoing relationship to someone is, for the other person, something finished and done with.
It’s when I have to acknowledge the past and all of those nameless, faceless people I’d assassinated, that I unravel inside.
The most amazing mechanism in the known universe is the human brain; it takes in information all the time then uses it, all of which is happening, of course, without human knowledge. Typical…
Where were we? I've forgotten. He was deciding whether to cut her throat or love her forever. Right. Yes. The usual choices.
You think you can get rid of things, and people too--leave them behind. You don't know yet about the habit they have, of coming back.
Better not to invent her in her absence. Better to wait until she's actually here. Then he can make her up as she goes along.
They were new money, without a doubt: so new it shrieked. Their clothes looked as it they'd covered themselves in glue, then rolled around in hundred-dollar bills.
More powerful than God, more evil than the Devil; the poor have it, the rich lack it, and if you eat it you die?
But what is a memorial, when you come right down to it, but a commemoration of wounds endured? Endured, and resented. Without memory, there can be no revenge.
But unshed tears can turn rancid. So can memory. So can biting your tongue. My bad nights were beginning. I couldn't sleep.
That's the kind of stories I know. Sad ones. Anyway, taken to it's logical conclusion, every story is sad, because at the end everyone dies.
When I first started tweeting, I was just doing it because I was watching 'Breaking Bad' in my trailer and I was so scared by the assassinating cousins. And when people started responding to me, I realized it was like I wasn't watching it alone.
