It doesn't matter who my father was it matters who I remember he was.

Every Christmas now for years I have found myself wondering about the point of the celebration. As the holiday has become more ecumenical and secular it has lost much of the magic that I remember so fondly from childhood.

From the time that I can remember I worked to make money - either baby-sitting or one year wrapping gifts at a department store at Christmas so I could have my own money.

I'm sure most of us remember being a kid and you have all of this endless time where two weeks before Christmas feels like ten years. I used to go to bed to try and go to sleep to try and make it go faster.

I remember wishing there was snow in L.A. And how jealous we used to get of those Christmas specials with kids playing in the snow.

My wife whenever I'd go off to work and I'd be kind of anxious she'll say 'Remember have fun.' Oh I forgot thanks for the reminder. Because sometimes we do forget. We take it all too seriously and there's a lot of joy to be had wherever you are.

The strongest influences in my life and my work are always whomever I love. Whomever I love and am with most of the time or whomever I remember most vividly. I think that's true of everyone don't you?

It behooves every man to remember that the work of the critic is of altogether secondary importance and that in the end progress is accomplished by the man who does things.

I remember when the wave of Jennifer Lopez Salma Hayek and these beautiful Hispanic women came into light and I looked up to them and I loved them but I was like 'Where are Middle Eastern women?'

Remembering is painful it's difficult but it can be inspiring and it can give wisdom.