“I think of myself as a girl from Brooklyn.”

Directing is so interesting. You know, it just sort of encompasses everything that you see, that you know, that you’ve felt, that you have observed.

I don’t like talking about myself and I don’t like talking about the work.

I remember when I was 5 living on Pulaski Street in Brooklyn, the hallway of our building had a brass banister and a great sound, a great echo system. I used to sing in the hallway.

My nose was part of my heritage, and if I had talent to sing and to act, why wasn’t that enough?

I don’t know why it is that we need to denigrate, to knock down. It’s so sick.

When I was maybe 5 or 6 years old, the neighborhood girls would sit on the stoop and sing. I was known as the kid who had a good voice and no father.

I’ve been called many names like perfectionist, difficult and obsessive. I think it takes obsession, takes searching for the details for any artist to be good.

I’d started going to acting classes at 14, played ‘Medea’ at 15 and really wanted to be a classical actress.

My mother never really thought I could become anything.

In the music business, we all do different things, but we sit there and admire other people who can write a song differently or sing differently. It’s not so competitive.

Being a woman in music was fine, but when I wanted to direct, I was poking my head into a man’s world.

I hate tooting my own horn, but after Steven Spielberg saw Yentl, he said: “I wish I could tell you how to fix your picture, but I can’t. It’s the best film I’ve seen since Citizen Kane”.

I am a nice person. I care about my driver having lunch, you know.

I’ll see a celadon green room in an 18th century New Hampshire house and just fall in love. Colors stay in my head.

I only began to sing because I couldn’t get a job as an actress.

I never sing in the shower either.

Dear God,’ she prayed, ‘let me be something every minute of every hour of my life.’

It’s good I was born in Brooklyn. You learn how to take care of yourself.

I remember when I was 5 living on Pulaski Street in Brooklyn, the hallway of our building had a brass banister and a great sound, a great echo system. I used to sing in the hallway.

I’m a tough old broad from Brooklyn. Don’t try to make me into something I’m not. If you want someone to tiptoe down the Barkley staircase in crinoline and politely ask where the cattle went, get another girl.

I’m a tough old broad from Brooklyn. I intend to go on acting until I’m ninety, and they won’t need to paste my face with make-up.

I was raised on the streets, in hot, steamy Brooklyn, with stifled air.

The Brooklyn Bridge and I grew up together.

I was 12 or 13, and I had seen a demo about origami at the Brooklyn Botanic Garden.