We work very cost effective and I sell my movies in 100 territories on my own.
Yûko Sakaki - onna 9-ban: [mortified] It's not my fault. It's NOT my fault. IT'S NOT MY FAULT!
I'm much more comfortable speaking through my characters' voices than my own.
The paper is my savior, the pen my blood, to words that shed my world.
I listen to myself, I listen to my body, my mind; I follow my heart.
what makes you my friend if you doubt my intentions?
I'm happier about my friends than I am about my work. I still have a long way to go with work. My friends, that's the one thing I'm sure about.
I'm constantly seen as a 'foreigner,' and I need my passport to prove my identity, to keep moving and to carry on my work.
I am very hands on doing my own work, all my own stunt work.
If I had two loaves of bread, I would sell one and buy hyacinths, for they would feed my soul.
I came to the place of my birth and cried, "The friends of my youth, where are they?" And echo answered, "Where are they?"
I don't like forgetting, Elías," I said with my eyes closed. A single tear slipped down my cheek and I let it. "I don't want to forget these moments that constantly remind me of who I am, who I was, and who you are. I don't want to forget my past an...
Inigo Montoya: My father was slaughtered by a six-fingered man. He was a great swordmaker, my father. When the six-fingered man appeared and requested a special sword, my father took the job. He slaved a year before it was done. [Shows the Man in Bla...
The world demands I make good choices on no information, and then blames my maidenhood for my mistakes, as if my maidenhood were responsible for my ignorance. Ignorance is not stupidity, but it might as well be. And I do not like feeling stupid.
Oh, my god. My non-committal boyfriend, who I was just fucking this morning, that I want to spend the rest of my life with, is your Mr. Wonderful. He’s your ‘nice,’ mystery man. Jesus.
Finishing my thoughts aloud meant saying how my dad had passed, and I had failed. How I had smoked joints and lay in bed enabling my hopelessness. I’d been the ugly in my world.
If wild my breast and sore my pride, I bask in dreams of suicide, If cool my heart and high my head I think 'How lucky are the dead.
Her arms slid around my back and I heard the softest moan in my ear as she snuggled into my chest. Her mouth pressed to my neck, not kissing, just…there. On me. Dammity-damn-damn-damn.
My identity might begin with the fact of my race, but it didn't, couldn't end there. At least that's what I would choose to believe.
This time, I invited it in. I felt the darkness tame my impetuous nature, allowing me to feed slowly on the hatred and control it. The coldness flowed through my veins and to the lengths of each limb. The icy darkness pooled in my chest and chilled m...
He pries me from his chest and drops his hand from the back of my head, tracing my ear, along my jawline. He snatches his fingers a moment before they press into my lip.
