It doesn't bother me. Sure, everybody wants approval, but I came from the theatre and I've always treasured a remark from there which goes: 'For every six people who love you, there will be half a dozen who loathe you.' The quality of an author's work is not usually determined until after his death. Even Dickens got some pretty bad reviews.

Men and women walked casually about as they did on the main floor, every now and then stopping one another, exchanging pleasantries or scraps of relevantly irrelevant information. Gossip.

Visions of one powerful scene after another parade across his inner screen, each exploding with drama and meaning

I try as best I can to enter the realm of nuances of human behavior.

Credo quia absurdum – I believe because it is absurd.

I mean, we're all trying to find out who the hell we are, aren't we?

Well, let me tell you, gentlemen, the games of the devil are not restricted to those confined to hell. Others can play them.