But, after all, one cannot, at sixty-two, look back down the corridor of one's life and not have some doubts about the journey one has made. The doors which one opened are now all closed. The doors one did not dare open remain shut. The corridor is dark; only ahead is lighter. So one turns and proceeds in that direction. To go back is madness. To turn left or right, at this stage, is both exhausting and dangerous. |
The camera can photograph thought |
The camera can photograph thought. It's better than a paragraph of sweet polemic. |
The kind of acting I used to enjoy no longer exists because your prime consideration is the budget, running time, the cost - and whether they'll understand it in Milwaukee |