An American critic wrote that she would rather be forced to read the New York telephone directory three times than watch the film A Zed and Two Noughts, a third of which was a homage to Vermeer. Conceivably, if you are a list-enthusiast like me, the New York telephone directory might be fascinating, demographically, geographically, historically, typographically, cartographically; but I am sure no compliment was intended.

There's no such thing as history, only historians. That's how we know about the past.

I obviously irritate people. I obviously antagonise them.

Cinema has reached a dead end.

As for critics, one mediocre writer is more valuable than ten good critics. They are like haughty, barren spinsters lodged in a maternity ward.

Works of art are never finished, just stopped.

I really, sincerely believe that one should trust the work, and not the author.