It's difficult to tell the truth about how a book begins. The truth, as far as it can be presented to other people, is either wholly banal or too intimate.
I don't miss directing at all, and I don't miss screenwriting either because somebody's always telling you to do something different.
My little girl, Anja, is really excited. We had a baby shower yesterday and she took the presents from everyone for me and was telling them, 'No, it's my baby.'
Five billion people have played Hamlet. 'To be or not to be.' And how do you do that and find your way into your own journey, your own way of telling it?
How dare anyone, parent, schoolteacher, or merely literary critic, tell me not to act colored.
Cambridge is thriving and Britain is working. We have been telling people - 'if you value it, vote for it' - and this is particularly relevant in Cambridge.
And I'll tell her that I don't want my life to be samples and scraps. A taste of everything but a meal of nothing.
When you ask a bunch of people to see a film, and then invite them to comment on it and tell them it's a work-in-progress, they feel bound to offer an opinion.
I'm quite interested in the absolute roots of narrative, why we tell stories at all: where the monsters come from.
In more static societies, like Ireland, you can tell where a person is from by their surname, or where their grandparents are from.
Curiosity is the very basis of education and if you tell me that curiosity killed the cat, I say only the cat died nobly.
He tells you stories, but then, after a while, when you want more, he doesn't give you more. He insists on this old elaboration, the old stories that never changes.
Dialogue should simply be a sound among other sounds, just something that comes out of the mouths of people whose eyes tell the story in visual terms.
When I was with Ellen, I was telling people, If you come out, it's gonna be better for you. But I honestly don't know that.
Open your umbrella of creativity when glaring heat of adversity hits you unaware." ~ Angelica Hopes, If I Could Tell You
Als u een schoen naar iemands hoofd gooit, verspreid u uw eigen stank." ~ Angelica Hopes, If I Could Tell You
If you threw your shoe to someone’s head, you spread your own stench.” ~ Angelica Hopes, If I Could Tell You
Don't wait until it's too late to tell someone how much you love, how much you care.
Believe me when I tell you that waking up by your side, is the best thing that could happen to me.
I know it really sounds cheesy, but I did feel a duty to try to tell the stories of people who couldn't speak for themselves.
The difficulty about all this dying, is that you can't tell a fellow anything about it, so where does the fun come in?
