Why was I born with such contemporaries?

Schepisi is the sort of director who could, would, and frequently did phone me whenever he came across a textual problem.

A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness.

Homesickness is universal. But Neapolitan homesickness goes back further than the accidents of domicile. It is nostalgia for love and loss themselves, a soul-sickness caused by the very idea of leaving.

When Clark Gable died, I cried for 2 days straight. I couldn't eat or sleep.