When We Experience A Film, We Consciously

One Of Ennui's Most Terribel Components Is The Overwhelming Feeling Of Ennui That Comes Over You Whenever You Try To Explain It.

When You Die, You Are Extinguished. From Being You Will Be Transformed To Non-being. A God Does Not Necessarily Dwell Among Our Capricious Atoms.

We Walk In Circles, So Limited By Our Own Anxieties That We Can No Longer Distinguish Between True And False, Between The Gangster's Whim And The Purest Ideal.

The Film Medium Is Some Sort Of Magic. I Think Also It's A Magic That Every Frame Comes And Stands Still For A Fraction Of A Second And Then It Darkens. A Half Part Of The Time When You See A Picture You Sit In Complete Darkness. Isn't That Fascinating? That Is Magic.

Everything Is Worth Precisely As Much As A Belch, The Difference Being That A Belch Is More Satisfying.