Now think of it this way: which do you think would be better for Dottie, havin’ ten thousand dollars so maybe she could go to that Amazon school, or havin’ a beat-up, old, ugly, naggy, alcoholic.

I’m kind of perverse in that I think pessimism is helpful. My pessimism is my own kind of patriotism. My dissent.

BILL: Please, sweetheart, we need to know what went on here. JEAN: Nothing “went on.” Can we just not make a federal case out of everything?

If you’re not entertaining, what the hell’s the point?

I’m aware that a film is different than a play, and that a film isn’t going to be the filmed record of the play. It’s its own separate entity, and I’ve come to peace with that.

JOHNNA: What pills does she take? BEVERLY: Valium. Vicodin. Darvon, Darvocet. Percodan, Percocet. Xanax for fun. OxyContin in a pinch. Some Black Mollies once, just to make sure I was still paying attention. And of course Dilaudid. I shouldn’t forget Dilaudid.

Something has been said for sobriety but very little.

You’re thoughtful, Barbara, but you’re not open. You’re passionate, but you’re hard. You’re a good, decent, funny, wonderful woman, and I love you, but you’re a pain in the ass.

You ever hear of Killer Joe Cooper?

My point is, it’s not cut and dried, black and white, good and bad. It lives where everything lives: somewhere in the middle. Where everything lives, where all the rest of us live, everyone but you.