“Perfect happiness!”—waking in the morning to a clear & benevolent-seeming sky, a view from a window of a beautiful (if overgrown) garden, a cat purring. The excitement of rewriting the previous day’s work, & continuing on from that point energized & hopeful. For a writer, “happiness” isn’t likely to ever be “perfect”—but it is likely to be bound up with the work-in-progress. First drafts tend to be frustrating, exhausting—subsequent drafts sometimes move swiftly, even miraculously. For most adults, “Perfect is the enemy of good”—we learn to appreciate whatever measure of happiness we have, however modest.

The absence of fear, and the recognition that we are all on this ship of fools together. We may in fact go to the big ship’s Art Deco bar and have a glass of champagne, toasting our foibles.

Sitting in a living room with my sister, Pat Thaler, and her seven grandchildren and just talking with them. They range in age from 9 to 21 years old.

Having a bunch of answers and getting to fill in the questions. With loved ones. While in Maui.

Cruelty and not treating others as equals.

Dying alone and in pain.

Self-doubt and a reoccurring fear that people would prefer the other Alfred Molina.

My first payday as a professional actor, knowing this was the beginning of the rest of my life, and the day my daughter told me I wasn’t the worst dad in the world.