It Isn't That There's No Right And

I Could Meet Dreadful People And End Up Seeing The World Through Their Eyes, Seeing Their Frailties, Their Needs.

The First 50 Years Of The Cinema Were Absolutely Great Years. Original Minds Were At Work Establishing The Ways To Tell A Story. And What Is Happening Now Is A Copying, A Pastiche-ing Of What Was Done By Great Men.

How Could People Like These, Without Words To Put To Their Emotions And Passions, Manage? They Could, At Best, Only Suffer Dumbly. Their Pains And Humiliations Would Work Themselves Out In Their Characters Alone: Like Evil Spirits Possessing A Body, So That The Body Itself Might Appear Innocent Of What It Did.

Some Writers Can Only Deal With Childhood Experience, Because It's Complete. For Another Kind Of Writer, Life Goes On, And He's Able To Keep Processing That As Well.

Most People Are Not Really Free. They Are Confined By The Niche In The World That They Carve Out For Themselves. They Limit Themselves To Fewer Possibilities By The Narrowness Of Their Vision.