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.

Money is everywhere but so is poetry. What we lack are the poets.

A good opening and a good ending make for a good film provided they come close together.

If there were a little more silence, if we all kept quiet...maybe we could understand something.

No critic writing about a film could say more than the film itself, although they do their best to make us think the oppposite.

I think that one can have luck if one tries to create an atmosphere of spontaneity.

We must get beyond passions, like a great work of art. In such miraculous harmony. We should learn to love each other so much to live outside of time... detached.