Louisiana Is A Fresh-air Mental Asylum.

Age Is A Peculiar Kind Of Thief. It Slips Up On You And Steps Inside Your Skin And Is So Quiet And Methodical In Its Work That You Never Realize It Has Stolen Your Youth Until You Look Into The Mirror One Morning And See A Man You Don't Recognize.

You Have Two Choices In Life. You Either Die Or Do Something With Your Time. You're Going To Be Doing Something - Why Not Write?

There Is No Higher Form Of Artistic Expression Then Film

I Feel Blessed In The Knowledge That I Probably Belong To The Last Generation That Will Remember What We Call "traditional America."

If We Break Promises To God, Shouldn't We Be Allowed An Occasional Violation Of Our Word To Our Friends And Superiors?