My Week with Marilyn

My life and most people's lives are a series of little miracles -- strange coincidences which spring from uncontrollable impulses and give rise to incomprehensible dreams. We spend a lot of time pretending that we are normal, but underneath the surface each one of us knows that he or she is unique.

You're not lost in the storm, Marilyn. You are the storm.

He worked with her as she was and not as he wanted her to be.

It wasn't that I'd abandoned her, certainly not in my heart. It's just that there was no one left to save her. Poor Marilyn. Time had run out.

It's no good saying "Marilyn, you are a normal person underneath". She is completely convinced that her extraordinary fame exempts her completely. What no one dares to tell her is that her fame springs mainly - but not entirely - from her appearance.