I suddenly realized how much I loved her when we attended Alfred Hitchcock's 75th birthday party last August. There was something magical about that night and it made me see how much she really meant to me.

I had a birthday one night on a farm we were shooting on. I walked into the tent and there were 150 people waiting for me all wearing masks of my face.

When I am traveling in a carriage or walking after a good meal or during the night when I cannot sleep it is on such occasions that ideas flow best and most abundantly.

The abduction of a child is a tragedy. No one can fully understand or appreciate what a parent goes through at such a time unless they have faced a similar tragedy. Every parent responds differently. Each parent copes with this nightmare in the best way he or she knows how.

As we look forward to freedom the shining city on the hill and the best days of America lying ahead it is the men and women in uniform who protect defend and make us proud to whom we should look and give thanks every night.

Ideas are elusive slippery things. Best to keep a pad of paper and a pencil at your bedside so you can stab them during the night before they get away.

The noir hero is a knight in blood caked armor. He's dirty and he does his best to deny the fact that he's a hero the whole time.

My formula for living is quite simple. I get up in the morning and I go to bed at night. In between I occupy myself as best I can.

To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best night and day to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight and never stop fighting.

Literature boils with the madcap careers of writers brought to the edge by the demands of living on their nerves wringing out their memories and their nightmares to extract meaning truth beauty.