If It Has To Choose Who Is

Film Will Only Became An Art When Its Materials Are As Inexpensive As Pencil And Paper.

Expect Neither Reward Nor Beatitude. Return Noble Waves For Ignoble.

Art Is A Marriage Of The Conscious And The Unconscious.

One Of The Characteristics Of The Dream Is That Nothing Surprises Us In It. With No Regret, We Agree To Live In It With Strangers, Completely Cut Off From Our Habits And Friends.

Every Poem Is A Coat Of Arms. It Must Be Deciphered. How Much Blood, How Many Tears In Exchange For These Axes, These Muzzles, These Unicorns, These Torches, These Towers, These Martlets, These Seedlings Of Stars And These Fields Of Blue!