I Think The Great Artists (..) Have

So Slowly In My Mind Formed The Idea Of Melodrama, A Form I Found To Perfection In American Pictures. They Were Naive, They Were That Something Completely Different. They Were Completely Art-less.

Rock Hudson Was Not An Educated Man, But That Very Beautiful Body Of His Was Putty In My Hands.

At The Time I Belonged To The Socialist Party, And Hitler Came To Power.

These Happy Endings All Express The Weak And Sly Promise That The World Is Not Rotten And Out Of Joint But Meaningful And Ultimately In Excellent Condition.

There Is A Wonderful Expression: Seeing Through A Glass Darkly. Everything, Even Life, Is Inevitably Removed From You. You Can't Reach, Or Touch, The Real. You Just See Reflections