"It used to be that people would say, 'Why does anybody want a remote control for a TV if you can get up and change the channel?' " he said.
"I accepted that they would say: 'Why, and why now?' to which I would say: 'Why not?'" He said: "I come from the theatre, my bones are in the theatre; it's as natural as breathing to want to be in the theatre".
To that I would say why not?
No one would say why that cast did not come together.
We had a few hardcore fans in the cutting room and they'd [gasp] and say, "You can't do that!" I'd say, "Why can't I?" They'd say, "The fans want to see the Interceptor".
"If someone says to Gary, 'Do I look fat?' he'd say, 'Yes.' I'd actually say to him, 'You can't say that,' and he'd say, 'Why?' I said, 'Because you're offending them,' and he said, "but I'd rather know if I asked; they're asking because they want to know.' I said, 'No, they don't really want to know.
I always used to tease my wife, because all she ever wanted to do was watch "Leave It to Beaver" and "The Andy Griffith Show," and I'd say, "Why is that all you ever want to watch?
"Sure," he said, just like that, as if I'd said why don't we order sushi?
He said that inspectors would not say why they wanted to search Kurdish territory, and that he had implored them not to confuse victims of chemical attacks with the Baghdad leadership that used them.
I can now anticipate the question from a distinctively penetrating look in the eye: "Was Kevin born evil, or was the way he turned out his mother's fault?" "If I spent 400 pages refusing to answer that question," I say, "why would I answer it now?" Which is not to object that the readership of my seventh novel has cleaved into two violently convinced camps.
