I'll tell you something, and this is true: I've never been able to write a film which I didn't respect. I just can't do it. I'm very happy about all the films I haven't done.
Harold PinterRead
Analysis I take to be a scientific procedure. What I do is creative. It doesn't spring from the same part of the mind.
Interpretation
The quote distinguishes between analytical thought and creative expression.
Harold Pinter emphasizes the distinction between the systematic, logical processes of analysis, which are rooted in science, and the imaginative, instinctual nature of creativity. He asserts that these two cognitive faculties arise from different areas of the mind, suggesting that true creativity cannot be confined to analytical frameworks.
In practice
During a lecture on the intersection of science and art, a speaker could use this quote to highlight their approach.
I'll tell you something, and this is true: I've never been able to write a film which I didn't respect. I just can't do it. I'm very happy about all the films I haven't done.
All that happens is that the destruction of human beings - unless they're Americans - is called collateral damage.
I do tend to think that I've written a great deal out of my unconscious because half the time I don't know what a given character is going to say next.
I never think of myself as wise. I think of myself as possessing a critical intelligence which I intend to allow to operate.
It's so easy for propaganda to work, and dissent to be mocked.
There are places in my heart...where no living soul...has...or can ever...trespass.
Most of Hollywood is about making money - and I love money, but I don't make the films thinking about money.
I am not a performer but occasionally I deliberately work in a public context. Some sculptures need the movement of people around them to work.
One thing I did pick up from Cannonball Run was the use of bloopers and outtakes under the final credits, which I've done in all my movies since.
Since the beginning of the 20th century, the public's relationship to art has been weakened by a profound institutional reluctance to address the question of what art is for. This is a question that has, quite unfairly, come to feel impatient, illegitimate, and a little impudent.
Mere humans who root through their refrigerators at three o'clock in the morning can only produce writing that matches what they do. And that includes me.
Ladies bathed before noon, after their three o'clock naps, and by nightfall were like soft teacakes with frostings of sweat and sweet talcum.
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