The world becomes an apparently infinite, yet possibly finite, card game. Image combinations, permutations, comprise the world game.

I think in art, but especially in films, people are trying to confirm their own existences.

Drugs are a bet with your mind.

Death makes angels of us all and gives us wings where we had shoulders smooth as ravens claws.

I can kind of envision one person with a lot of machines, tapes, and electronic set-ups...singi ng or speaking and using machines.

Where's your will to be weird?

You cannot petition the lord with prayer!