Regret Isn't Going To Get Me Anywhere.

New York Was The Only Really Hostile City. Perhaps There Is A Certain Element Of The Lumpen Literati That Is So Dogmatically Atheist And Materialist And Earth-bound That It Finds The Grandeur Of Space And The Myriad Mysteries Of Cosmic Intelligence Anathema.

If Man Merely Sat Back And Thought About His Impending Termination, And His Terrifying Insignificance And Aloneness In The Cosmos, He Would Surely Go Mad, Or Succumb To A Numbing Sense Of Futility. Why, He Might Ask Himself, Should He Bother To Write A Great Symphony, Or Strive To Make A Living, Or Even To Love Another, When He Is No More Than A Momentary Microbe On A Dust Mote Whirling Through The Unimaginable Immensity Of Space?

A Film Is - Or Should Be - More Like Music Than Like Fiction. It Should Be A Progression Of Moods And Feelings. The Theme, What's Behind The Emotion, The Meaning, All That Comes Later.

The Essence Of Dramatic Form Is To Let An Idea Come Over People Without It Being Plainly Stated. When You Say Something Directly, It's Simply Not As Potent As It Is When You Allow People To Discover It For Themselves.

[making Movies] You're Not Trying To Capture Reality, You're Trying To Capture A Photograph Of Reality.