You Think I Live In The Past.

Obsession Led Me To Write. It's Been That Way With Every Book I've Ever Written. I Become Completely Consumed By A Theme, By Characters, By A Desire To Meet A Challenge.

In These Last Few Days, We Were Close Because We Were Both Mortal Men. We Saw The Same Sun And The Same Twilight, We Felt The Same Pull Of The Earth Beneath Our Feet. We Drank Together And Broke Bread Together. We Might Have Made Love Together, If You Had Only Allowed Such A Thing. But That’s All Changed. You Have Your Youth, Yes, And All The Dizzying Wonder That Accompanies The Miracle. But I Still See Death When I Look At You. I Know Now I Cannot Be Your Companion, And You Cannot Be Mine

He Had Grieved For Me, I'll Give Him That Much. But Then He Is So Good At Grieving! He Wears Woe As Others Wear Velvet; Sorrow Flatters Him Like The Light Of Candles; Tears Become Him Like Jewels.

Why Does Shame And Self-loathing Become Cruelty To The Innocent ?

Making A Film, I've Learned, Can Be An Exhausting Process, Due To The Need For Backing, Distribution, Etc.