My Work Was Entirely Nonfiction.

I Look At The Film As An Opportunity To See Some Bountifully Creative Minds Do Something That I Could Not Do - Tell The Story With Images. I Can't Wait To See What They Do.

He Had No Money And No Home; He Lived Entirely On The Road Of The Racing Circuit, Sleeping In Empty Stalls, Carrying With Him Only A Saddle, His Rosary, And His Books...the Books Were The Closest Thing He Had To Furniture, And He Lived In Them The Way Other Men Live In Easy Chairs.

I Had Been Writing Professionally Since 1988

When He Thought Of His History, What Resonated With Him Now Was Not All That He Had Suffered But The Divine Love That He Believed Had Intervened To Save Him.

Such Beauty, He Thought, Was Too Perfect To Have Come About By Mere Chance. That Day In The Center Of The Pacific Was, To Him, A Gift Crafted Deliberately, Compassionately, For Him And Phil. Joyful And Grateful In The Midst Of Slow Dying, The Two Men Bathed In That Day Until Sunset Brought Is, And Their Time In The Doldrums, To An End.