I'm a slave to my imagination in terms of making narrative films.

If it can be written, or thought, it can be filmed.

New York was the only really hostile city. Perhaps there is a certain element of the lumpen literati that is so dogmatically atheist and materialist and Earth-bound that it finds the grandeur of space and the myriad mysteries of cosmic intelligence anathema.

The destruction of this planet would have no significance on a cosmic scale: to an observer in the Andromeda nebula, the sign of our extinction would be no more than a match flaring for a second in the heavens: and if that match does blaze in the darkness there will be none to mourn a race that used a power that could have lit a beacon in the stars to light its funeral pyre. The choice is ours.

The truth of a thing is in the feel of it, not in the think of it.

I didn't want murder. It's all gone wrong.

However vast the darkness, we must supply our own light.