It's terrifying, that unconditional love you have for a child. I still wonder if she really came from me, from my womb. It's a miracle. I don't understand it. I live it very intensely.

No one is truly doing very well. One surely isn't here to do well. Surely we have another purpose: Perhaps to know who one is, to know that which makes us suffer and that which causes suffering for others; maybe to love someone... Perfection is the ability to admit imperfection.

On the surface I look fragile and insecure; you have to know me very well.

I try to live the moment and not obey laws, rules, conventions, or norms; to react to a sensation, a feeling, or an emotion. You can't program emotion.

I had never even thought I'd be an actress - I was supposed to be a lawyer. But the motivation is the same: when you act, you defend a role; you have to be convincing. It's the same career.

To what purpose is it to be artificially happy on the surface?