The Movies Are An Eruption Of Trash

There Was A Land Of Cavaliers And Cotton Fields Called The Old South. Here In This Pretty World, Gallantry Took Its Last Bow. Here Was The Last Ever To Be Seen Of Knights And Their Ladies Fair, Of Master And Of Slave. Look For It Only In Books, For It Is No More Than A Dream Remembered, A Civilization Gone With The Wind.

Three Years Ago, The White Hope Of The Theatre. Today, A Mug. That's New York For You. Puts You On A Christmas Tree, And Then - The Alley.

There Is Nothing As Dull As An Intellectual Ally After A Certain Age.

I Have Known A Handful Of Producers Who Actually Were Equal Or Superior To The Writers With Whom They Worked. These Producers Were A New Kind Of Nonwriting Writer Hatched By The Movies - As Australia Produced Wingless Birds. They Wrote Without Pencils Or Even Words. Using A Sort Of Mime-like Talent, They Could Make Up Things Like Writers.

The Rule In The Art World Is: You Cater To The Masses Or You Kowtow To The Elite; You Can't Have Both.