In a mind clear as still water, even the waves, breaking, are reflecting its light.
I do find myself drawn more to pieces that I feel are wrestling with the way that we're living now, what we're all going through.
The best films of any kind, narrative or documentary, provoke questions.
It must be good to be in Germany and France, because I have completely forgotten what it is like to be proud of your government.
It's dismaying to see the unilateralism that the government is doing.
I tend to relate to a character in terms of the arc: what's interesting is where he starts versus where he ends up.
At this point in my life I'm not bent on proving anything, really.
It was a bird. A bird struggling through stickiness: a bird coated in paint, floundering in its nest, splashing color everywhere. Red. Red. Red. Dozens of them: black feathers coated thickly with crimson-colored paint, fluttering among the branches. Red means run.
I've always made sequels, even when I was making Super 8 movies if the audience liked it.
Your absence of mind we have borne, till your presence of body came to be called in question by it.
I confidently predict the collapse of capitalism and the beginning of history. Something will go wrong in the machinery that converts money into money, the banking system will collapse totally, and we will be left having to barter to stay alive. Those who can dig in their garden will have a better chance than the rest. I'll be all right; I've got a few veg.