There Is No End. There Is No

Regrets Are A Waste Of Time. They're The Past Crippling You In The Present.

There Is Abundant Testimony That If We Choose Love Rather Than Self, We Gain Immeasurably.

No Critic Writing About A Film Could Say More Than The Film Itself, Although They Do Their Best To Make Us Think The Oppposite.

The Greatest Danger For Artists Is Total Freedom.

Objects And Their Functions No Longer Had Any Significance. All I Perceived Was Perception Itself, The Hell Of Forms And Figures Devoid Of Human Emotion And Detached From The Reality Of My Unreal Environment. I Was An Instrument In A Virtual World That Constantly Renewed Its Own Meaningless Image In A Living World That Was Itself Perceived Outside Of Nature. And Since The Appearance Of Things Was No Longer Definitive But Limitless, This Paradisiacal Awareness Freed Me From The Reality External To Myself. The Fire And The Rose, As It Were, Became One.