You know, I once read an interesting book which said that, uh, most people lost in the wilds, they, they die of shame. Yeah, see, they die of shame. 'What did I do wrong? How could I have gotten myself into this?' And so they sit there and they... die. Because they didn't do the one thing that would save their lives. Thinking.

A dramatic experience concerned with the mundane may inform but it cannot release; and one concerned essentially with the aesthetic politics of its creators may divert or anger, but it cannot enlighten.

If you find that a point cannot be made without narration, it is virtually certain that the point is unimportant to the story (which is to say, to the audience).

Movies were never an art form, they were entertainment. It just evolved into an art form from there, and it's still evolving in different ways.

I'm entitled to my political opinions, and I get to vote because I'm an American.

To find beauty in the sad, hope in the midst of loss, and dignity in failure is great poetic art.

We're all put to the test... but it never comes in the form or at the point we would prefer, does it?