A Quote by Nas
I think if I heard someone else talking about their life, describing all the problems I've had, they'd look like they were through. Done. But there's something about me - I'm smiling. Those things are really not bad enough to put me in a slump. I'm smiling with the opportunity to wake up every morning.
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I wake up every morning at, like, seven or eight because I think that there's a bad story about me, and I have to check. My worst fear is waking up and finding something bad about me on the Internet.
Every single morning you wake up with the opportunity to be yourself, or be the idea of someone else. For me it is all about... my favourite mantra is: "You do you. I do me. They do they."
Look, I'm smiling at you, I'm smiling in you, I'm smiling through you. How can I be dead if I breathe in every quiver of your hand?
You almost have to step outside yourself and look at you as if you were someone else you really care about and really want to protect. Would you let someone take advantage of that person? Would you let someone use that person you really care about? Or would you speak up for them? If it was someone else you care about, you'd say something. I know you would. Okay, now put yourself back in that body. That person is you. Stand up and tell 'em, "Enough!
Stained is about a lonely bookshop keeper, and her past comes back to haunt her. I play a femme fatale, schizophrenic serial killer. They offered me the part and I was like, "I'm just curious why you thought I would be perfect for this role," and the director (Karen Lam) said, "You have this look that, when you're smiling, you're really sweet, but when you're not smiling, you look like you could kill somebody."
It's like you are dreaming, and then somebody wakes you up and says, "Wake up, this is true!" You always look back, thinking that maybe they meant to call someone else. But, when life gives you the opportunity to go through something like this, you better make the most of it and enjoy it and have fun. This doesn't happen every day.
And just about the time I feel like screaming and finding me a wall to punch right through, I look up and I just can't help smiling, it's you.
He kissed me hard and I kissed him back harder, like it was the end of an era that had lasted all of my life.
Being near Tom and Doug at night kept me from having to say to myself I am not afraid whenever I heard a branch snap in the dark or the wind shook so fiercely it seemed something bad was about to happen. But I wasn't out here to keep myself from having to say I am not afraid. I'd come, I'd realized, to stare that fear down, to stare everything down, really - all that I'd done to myself and all that had been done to me. I couldn't do that while tagging along with someone else.
A wave of blood goes up to my head, my stomach shrinks together, as if something dangerous has just missed hitting me. It's as if I've been caught stealing, or telling a lie; or as if I've heard other people talking about me, saying bad things about me, behind my back. There's the same flush of shame, of guilt and terror, and of cold disgust with myself. But I don't know where these feelings have come from, what I've done.
Eric was holding my hands, and I was digging my nails into him like we were doing something else. He won't mind, I though, as I realized I'd drawn blood. And sure enough, he didn't. "Let go," he advised me, and I loosened my grip on his hands. "No, not of me," he said smiling. "You can hold on to me as long as you want.
I just want to ball. I just want a chance to win a championship. I just want to win. I wake up every day smiling. Why? Because I've got my people around me. I really don't give a damn what anybody thinks about me or what I say or what I do.
I don't think he was knowable. I mean, when most people talk about knowing somebody a lot or a little, they're talking about the secrets they've been told or haven't been told. They're talking about intimate things, family things, love things," that nice old lady said to me. "Mr. Hoenikker had all those things in his life, the way every living person has to, but they weren't the main things with him.
I don't like talking. It's how I'm built. Some people gab all day and some play it smogo. I don't mind talking or smiling, it's just I don't do it very much. I haven't got a smiling face or a talking mouth.
I wake up in the morning, put on my face. The one that's going to get me through another day. Doesn't really matter...how I feel inside. This life is like a game sometimes. When you came around me the walls just disappeared. Nothing to surround me and keep me from my fears. I'm unprotected. See how I've opened up? You've made me trust.
My Picassos and Ferraris - those are kind of just toys. Those aren't the things that matter. What matters in the car collecting or the art collecting is to learn about it, and then actually not the acquisition but to put them into a collection that I think is curated. You know, so something of me in the collection that the artist actually created the work. If I was going to collect art, it had to be something of me, my eye, things that appeal to me so when I looked at it, it would really look like a collection, not just an accumulation of stuff.
I was lucky to grow up with phenomenal parents who were into talking about things. When something hit me hard as a kid, we'd just talk about it. I'm usually pretty open about what's going on with me. I'm not a great actor in the sense that I can't fake it if I'm going through something difficult.
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