Spike Jonze Quotes

The past is just a story we tell ourselves.

Falling in love is kind of like a form of socially acceptable insanity.

Sometimes I think I've felt everything I'm ever gonna feel and from here on out I'm not going to feel anything new - just lesser versions of what I've already felt.

It was exciting to see her grow - both of us grow and change together. But then, that's the hard part - growing without growing apart, or changing without it scaring the other person.

We're only here briefly. And while I'm here, I want to allow myself joy. So fuck it.

It's like I'm reading a book, and it's a book I deeply love, but I'm reading it slowly now so the words are really far apart and the spaces between the words are almost infinite. I can still feel you and the words of our story, but it's in this endless space between the words that I'm finding myself now. It’s a place that’s not of the physical world - it's where everything else is that I didn't even know existed. I love you so much, but this is where I am now. This is who I am now. And I need you to let me go. As much as I want to I can't live in your book anymore.

Getting to work on the thing that you're always thinking about anyways is like the biggest--that's the goal.

Don't differentiate between "This is a job" and "This is what I'm doing for fun." It's all simultaneous.

We'll take care for each other, and we'll all sleep together in a real pile.

When you're talking about the idea of loving your ex, and being able to hold on to that amidst all the other feelings of being heartbroken or sad or missing something that's gone --something dies when a relationship ends. It is a death because that thing that was the two of you together was alive and now it won't be and the only two people who really knew that thing was alive are the two of you. No one else knows.

It is for this reason that the anxiety about the boundaries between people and machines has taken on new urgency today, when we constantly rely on and interact with machines—indeed, interact with each other by means of machines and their programs: computers, smartphones, social media platforms, social and dating apps. This urgency has been reflected in a number of recent films about troubled relationships between people and their human-seeming devices. The most provocative of these is Her , Spike Jonze’s gentle 2013 comedy about a man who falls in love with the seductive voice of an operating system, and, more recently, Alex Garland’s Ex Machina , about a young man who is seduced by a devious, soft-spoken female robot called Ava whom he has been invited to interview as part of the “Turing Test”: a protocol designed to determine the extent to which a robot is capable of simulating a human. Although the robot in Garland’s sleek and subtle film is a direct descendant of Hesiod’s Pandora—beautiful, intelligent, wily, ultimately dangerous—the movie, as the Eve-like name Ava suggests, shares with its distinguished literary predecessors some serious biblical concerns.

Es como si estuviera leyendo un libro y es un libro que amo profundamente. Pero ahora lo leo muy lentamente así que las palabras están muy separadas y el espacio entre palabras es casi infinito. Aún puedo sentirte a ti y a las palabras de nuestra historia. Pero es en este espacio infinito entre las palabras que me estoy encontrando a mi misma. Es un lugar que no existe en el plano físco. Es donde está todo lo demás que ni siquiera sabía que existía. Te amo tanto. Pero aquí es donde me encuentro ahora. Esta es quien soy ahora. Y necesito que me dejes ir. Sin importar cuanto lo quiera, ya no puedo vivir en tu libro.

A veces creo que ya he sentido todo lo que puedo sentir, y que a partir de ahora no sentiré nada nuevo... Sólo versiones menos intensas de lo que ya he sentido