“I don’t want to be the person digging my own grave.”

If I spread myself too thin, I’m not a good actor, I’m not a good mother, and I’m just really high-strung – and everybody hates me.

Some people think, if you’re in the public eye, that you have to have an answer for everything and it has to be boring.

I’m done with the whole idea of having my own children. It doesn’t seem like any fun.

My mother often says that she could never have done it if I had been the youngest, if she had other small children she had to cart around New York City for my auditions and go-sees (modeling auditions) and stuff.

Guys are much more obvious than they think they are.

My sister is Korean and my parents adopted her about three years before I was born and that is how I grew up.

I’m terrible with patience.

Even if you plan a marriage and a family, you are never quite prepared for the reality versus how you imagined it. In a lot of ways it’s better, and in a lot of ways it’s worse. That’s life, right?

My career is really important to me, but there have to be other great, important things in your life besides work.

I keep kind of making certain mistakes in public appearances over and over again.

I was the youngest child and really spoiled. I loved to play make-believe. I loved pretending to be all kinds of different people and it just seemed natural that I would go into acting.

I think that everybody has a right to their own thoughts, their own feelings and their own private moments, if they want them.

I’m a sappy mom now. I didn’t think I would be. I thought I’d be a cool mom who keeps everything in perspective.

Kids are a huge sacrifice; they change everything – but I’m ready to work for things of greater importance than going out to meet someone for dinner at 10 o’clock at night.

If I have to be focused and watch what I say, then I have to be comfortable.

In my career, I’m very grateful for the opportunities.

Tombs are the clothes of the dead and a grave is a plain suit; while an expensive monument is one with embroidery.

History says, ‘Don’t hope on this side of the grave.’

One keeps forgetting old age up to the very brink of the grave.

Perhaps the only misplaced curiosity is that which persists in trying to find out here, on this side of death, what lies beyond the grave.

The Deads-men, the Deadmen, the Undeads-men, the Undeadmen, the Rots, the Rotters, the Dirts, the Dirty Ones, the Grayboys, the Eaten Brains, the Eating Brains, the Mersey Beaters, the Mersey Beaten, the Bloodless, the Graves, the Headstones, and the Liverpools of Blood.

She realized now wrong she’d been; the pali wasn’t a headstone and Kalaupapa wasn’t a grave.

A man and still more the woman, who can be accused either of doing “what nobody does,” or of not doing “what everybody does,” is the subject of as much depreciatory remark as if he or she had committed some grave moral delinquency.

Life is the journey between darkness of the womb and darkness of the grave.